


Dangerous Grounds

by cedarandmusk



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28728705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarandmusk/pseuds/cedarandmusk
Summary: Gus observes Brian and Justin trying to figure out how to make things work. Or at times, how to make their lives work outside of each other.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 56





	1. The Thing You Should Know

**Author's Note:**

> I'm one of those people who just hated the last season. A couple of positives, sure, but overall I found it to be messy and rushed and so often astray from what we knew of the characters at that point. This was meant to be a really short one off then grew and I couldn't stop typing. So now it's going to be chapters. Just a warning I haven't written fanfic in years and even longer since I watched the *whole* show so please be kind! 
> 
> This story will definitely have a happy ending but I also am a fan of angst and story arcs that have the realistic flow of good times/bad times so probably best if you don't read if you only want fluff. 
> 
> Also unedited so if anyone wants to proofread future parts hit me up.

The thing about it all is, is it was never without complication.

Most people in my situation might think of your parent’s partner as a stepparent, may even call them Dad or Pa or Pops. I had my Mom and Ma, after all, though I used either interchangeably at times without thinking about it. Point is, my family life was complicated, and I knew from an early age that I wasn’t like the other sticky fingered, rosy-cheeked children I was forced to spend playdates with. 

I also hated those other kids. But that’s getting into a different situation. 

What I guess I’m trying to say is, is that Justin was Justin. And it worked. I knew Justin was there the day I was born, I knew that he had essentially chosen my name and I knew that he was the only man my Dad ever loved. I knew he was a successful artist that had boring art shows that I had to attend in scratchy suits at least two or three times a year and that he liked Toronto more than I did. He even had a show a few miles from our place that we lived in for the first six years after the move. I remember Mom, well, Linds, as you know her, fussing over my tie as she prattled on about what a big deal this was for Justin and that some curator would be there with connections in London, Gus, London! 

I also remember the phone call with Dad an hour before, two hours after he was supposed to arrive.

“I have a meeting I can’t get away from, Sonny Boy,” he drawled, voice scratchy from what I thought was a cold then but know now was probably a day long binge of pot and Jim Beam. “Send my regards. Tell Justin he’s incredible, but don’t say you like something if you don’t. Act interested. Don’t be a twat.” I heard Ma gasp and shriek his name from the other line, clearly annoyed with his language as she typically was with anything that had to do with my Dad. 

“Ma, can’t you let me talk to Dad by myself for like, two minutes?” I heard Mom close by her whisper something in that quiet, soothing tone she typically reserved for anytime she was around people arguing. I rolled my eyes. I never got any privacy. “I will,” I promised him. “Mom said the show will be here for another two weeks. I know he’s only coming tonight, but I’m your son, you could come to see me.”  
“Who knows what the future has in store,” he mused. “Be good. Tell your moms to floss regularly. Carpet’s a bitch to get out.” Click. 

“Carpet? Ma? Mom?” Click. 

Remember, I hate other kids. I especially hate that I learned from the back of the school bus exactly what my dad meant by that. 

I’m skipping ahead. 

Justin met us at the gallery, and somehow seeing him always made me feel happy, even at 10-years old. He always looked friendly, warm, emulated this golden light where I immediately felt good being around him. He had bight hair, bright eyes, those kind of smiles you see in toothbrush ads. (Oh god, now I’m thinking of floss. Why did my dad have to ruin everything?) He wasn’t dressed in a tie like I was, which made me turn red as he looked at me with a wide grin and brushed my shoulder, complimenting how handsome I was in that that adults always did. 

“Mel, Linds. Thank you for coming,” he said as he hugged them both, cheeks brushing as they took their turns greeting kissing hello. “It’s so good to see you both. And Gus, wow, you’re getting to be so tall.” 

“I’m the second tallest in my class,” I had said, rather lamely, but he smiled wider anyway, looking impressed. He then knelt down to where JR was hugging at Mom’s leg, still shy around anyone other than us and her dads. She did a little twirl as he complimented her dress, holding on to her hand despite it being sticky from her juice-box. 

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Ma said, sipping on her drink. She always guided me through these things. Mom was the painter and would get lost in the art, often speaking to me in a small voice about what each piece represented in a lot of funny words I didn’t know. Then Ma would pull on my hand and mouth words like Strong or Lonely, translating silently. 

Like then, as I was tugging at the itchy tie, following behind my moms, JR and Justin as they talked about the last several months from when we saw each other last at Uncle Michael and Uncle Ben’s for Thanksgiving. JR was pretty well behaved as far as little kids went, as long as she had a snack in hand. Which now was the bread from some bruschetta they had served as waiters walked round, though I ate the topping off for her. 

“…is important. It’s fine, he hates missing these things. I’m sure he’s more upset than anyone else that he couldn’t make it up,” Justin was saying, and I knew they were talking about Dad. 

“I’ll make sure to save a copy of the Toronto Star for him,” Mom said as we stopped in front of long walls formed in a small half circle, a small table to the side with paper pamphlets where I saw some writing that said About the Artist. Just then, a man with a blue button-up and dark curly hair swept up behind Justin. He had dark brown skin and a single earring, and smiled as he wrapped his hand around Justin’s shoulder in greeting. 

“You wouldn’t know where I could find the artist, would you? I heard he was going to be here,” he said in an accent that made me think of Harry Potter. (I was 10, it was my only source for British accents, okay?) 

“Adam,” Justin said, pulling the man into a hug. “When did you get into town?”

“Last night. I would have called but the hotel didn’t have an adaptor and I’m afraid I left mine back home. It’s what happens when your dad catches the flu and has to cancel a trip last minute leaving barely a day to pack. Oh. I’m sorry, good evening.” He turned to my moms, holding out his hand. 

Justin shook his head, like he was remembering something. “Oh, sorry. Um, Mel, Linds, this is Adam. He’s a friend from when I first moved to New York, but he’s been back in England the last couple of years. Adam, this is Melanie, Lindsay and their kids Gus and Jenny-Rebecca.”

“Ah yes, I seem to recall hearing about you lot. More like family than friends, yeah? It’s wonderful to meet you.” The adults went about introductions and I cringed as he held out his fist for me to bump. Adults. 

Anyway. I won’t bore you with too much of what they talked about. Turns out Adam was the son of the art curator my mom told me about and once she learned that she shot her eyebrows up towards Justin while Ma told Adam about finally getting to work in Canada. Justin simply shrugged, and I watched as several people passed by his work, stopping to greet him and praise him. I only then really took a look, and not just because my dad told me to look interested. He seemed to have a lot of admirers, and while I thought Mom’s paintings were great, Justin’s were completely different. I couldn’t really tell what they were then, it took years for me to translate the blur of colors and lines and the implications of feelings they evoked. Perseverance. Love. Heartbreak. 

“These are really cool,” I said to myself, but Justin heard and turned. “You’re really good,” I told him directly, and watched as Justin’s smile looked like it would break his face.

“Thank you, Gus,” he said warmly, and he rubbed my shoulder. “Tallest one in your class, right? I bet you’re the smartest, too.” 

“I won my class spelling bee,” I said proudly, even though I knew my moms had probably already told him on one of their weekly phone calls. “But I’m not great with Math.” 

“You’ll get there,” he assured. “You have two very smart moms and they told me you even taught JR how to write her own name.”

“It’s two letters,” I scoffed, to which Justin conceded with a chuckle. 

“Still. Perseverance will you get you anywhere.” 

It was then I saw from the corner of my eye as Adam’s hand slid to Justin’s lower back, leaning in to whisper something quietly in his ear. I only caught “already sold,” and “a lot of interest,” but I couldn’t look away from the hand. I don’t know why, but it made me sad.

My dad and Justin hadn’t been together at that point for a while, at least, the last two Thanksgivings I remembered. They always talked a lot when we’d get together with family, and from what I overheard my moms say they saw each other a lot despite living in two different cities. But I knew they had a history. I remember last Thanksgiving Uncle Emmett watching them across the room from the couch as he sat next to me, passing me another sugar cookie. 

“The endless saga of Brian and Justin,” he sighed, and we both watched as Dad moved his hand across Justin’s face, presumably wiping something from his cheek from what I could see from our angle. I didn’t really know what saga meant, but I heard the quiet click of Uncle Emmett’s tongue and long sigh and knew something was… off. Justin pulled slightly away from Dad but put his palm on his chest, and was laughing at something Dad must have said. It was then that Dad put a hand on Justin’s lower back and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. I don’t know why, really, they were already secluded to their own corner of the room. Justin didn’t do anything initially, but he must have said something, because he pulled away completely this time. He reached behind himself to squeeze Dad’s hand, then walked away while still holding on until just the tips of their fingers separated.

Dad took a sip of the beer he had in his free hand, and set it down on the table near him. Only a beat later, he followed in the same direction Justin went.

“Mmhm,” Uncle Emmett said quietly into his drink.

Anyway, it probably shouldn’t have bothered me if Justin had a boyfriend. Him and Dad seemed okay with whatever they were, and Mom had promised me I could go up for a couple weeks in the summer to spend it completely with Dad, and every time we talked on the phone he sounded as happy as Dad ever sounds. I wasn’t old enough then to really remember them together together, but I knew I felt a twinge in my chest at Adam being so close to him. 

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your family and admirers, but I have some things I need to tell you, if you have a moment,” Adam said, and while Ma was too busy distracting JR with a cup of water to hear, Mom was smiling widely, nodding and waving them off. 

“Oh, don’t let us take you away from work. You’re in town for some time, we’ll catch up during brunch tomorrow,” Mom told Justin, kissing his cheek. “Go. It was nice to meet you Adam.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. My dad will know about your gallery the next time we talk. Thanks again for your card. Have a good night.” 

I watched as Adam led Justin by his arm away from the crowd of people, close by a window that exposed the city street. He said a few words and whatever it was, Justin seemed happy to hear. He hugged Adam quickly, then pulled away while looking a bit embarrassed. A woman with a long jacket and red hair in a high bun came by and placed stickers beneath a few of his paintings, ducking under quickly while the other patrons whispered and discussed his art. They sounded a lot like Mom, using weird analogies and words I didn’t know quite yet. 

I turned to see what Justin and Adam were up to, but they were already gone. 

Mom’s phone rang.

She touched my shoulder as she pushed by, and I turned to see Ma shrug one shoulder while leading JR towards the bathroom. 

“Left all on your own, then?” Came a voice near me, and I jumped a little, not expecting it. I turned and saw a smiling Adam, though Justin was no longer with him.

“It happens a lot,” I admitted, trying to sound cooler than I felt. “JR gets all the attention because she’s younger.”

He laughed, drinking some bubbly. “I’m the youngest of three and believe me, that isn’t always a good thing. You like art?”

“I like Justin,” I said, itching at my neck. I really hated ties. “Are you his boyfriend?”

He blinked, seemingly taken aback. “His…?” He turned around, possibly looking for Justin. When no familiar blond could be found amongst the sea of gallery attendants, he looked back at me with a sheepish grin. “No, I can’t say we’re boyfriends. Old acquaintances more like.”“What’s ac- acquant-“ I couldn’t get the word to fit my mouth. 

“Friends. Just friends.” 

Mom came back at that point, snapping her phone shut and putting it back in her purse. She made polite conversation with Adam while Ma and JR were pushing us through the rest of the gallery as the crowd around Justin’s work grew larger. Adam stuck around for a bit, talking to Mom more about her own art before he was pulled away by some old couple in matching grey suits. We saw Justin making his own rounds, flitting around like a butterfly from flower to flower. He nestled in a corner for a while, elbow resting on a stained brown table as patrons seemed to soak in everything he said like baby birds for food. I liked Justin, I liked his smile and kindness and that he always seemed interested in what I had to say. But on our way out, as we waved to him across the room, I saw Adam slide back to him, handing him a glass of the same bubbly drink he had earlier. They touched glasses, and there was something in the way Adam looked at him that caused my stomach to turn.  
He looked at Justin like he was the art.

~*~

Okay, so I’m going to pause here. You know how this ends, otherwise you probably wouldn’t be reading. Dad and Justin loved one another, and everyone knew it.  
But life had a way of trying to keep them apart.

And readers, when I was 10-years old, I had my first memory of when life did its best to do this. I just want to warn you, it was hard to see then, but looking back I’m glad I was too young to really comprehend the many layers that went into what happened the day after the opening of Justin’s art show. 

Okay, so, here’s how it went down.

~*~

It was a Saturday afternoon when Mom and Ma were setting the table for brunch. They brought out the lacy tablecloth that smelled like the attic for the special occasion, since Justin was coming over and all. Ma made some kind of goat cheese frittata while Mom was working on mixing some alcohol into orange juice. The whole morning was spent with them barking order at me to put this here or that there. I took very careful steps as I put the plates on the table, Ma’s voice of those are expensive plates, Gus, be cautious in my head. I also learned, a bit begrudgingly, that Justin’s acquaintance Adam would be joining us.

As usual, JR was the young and cute one so she didn’t really have to do any work. 

She followed close behind me the whole time, singing the Caillou theme song for the 7th time that day. 

Mom had been acting off, like that time we surprised Ma with a birthday cake JR and I helped bake. She seemed distracted, mumbling about moving the succulent outside and having to retrace her steps three times when she was supposed to put the flower arrangement at the center of the table. She also had her phone clasped in her hand the whole time, which was unique to her. She was usually always misplacing her phone, leaving it in JR’s room or in the key bowl. 

The doorbell rang and we all kind of froze. Justin said he’d be arriving around 11am, and while it was 10:30am according to the oven display, we still had the final touches to put on the table. 

Mom tugged at her blouse, smile tight. “I’ll get it,” she said. “Mel, the scones should just about be finished. Do you want to put them on the platter and I’ll bring Justin and Adam to the sitting room? I’m sure they won’t mind waiting while we finish.”

“You’ve got it,” Ma said, wiping her hands on the front of her trousers. “Come on sweetie,” she said to JR, reaching out her hand to my sister. “Let’s get some juice.” 

I heard Mom’s voice out by the entrance followed by a lower, more mellow voice. It was muffled, quiet from the distance, but I knew it didn’t sound like Justin. It was familiar, however, almost like…

“Sonny Boy!” Soon followed, as from the doorway to the dining area came my Dad with his arms stretched out, Mom hiding a smile behind her fingers right near him. 

“Dad!” I ran to him, hugging his waist tight. He had a white t-shirt with his usual leather jacket, though his hair was a bit shorter from last I saw. It also looked like hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his eyes were a bit puffy and weary. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne, and exactly like I had remembered. Just like… Well, Dad.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” came Ma’s voice from the opposite entrance that led to the kitchen. JR bounced on her feet behind Ma’s legs, holding on to her thigh and giggling when Dad waved to her. 

“Now Mel,” Dad said, smirking as he rubbed the top of my head, “you know I’ve never been affiliated with any pussy,” my Mom cleared her throat, “cat,” he finished. 

“Turns out Ted was able to negotiate with the airline to get Brian’s ticket pushed back a day,” Mom said from behind us as she pushed her way in, going back to putting out the dishes. “He called last night and I thought it would be a nice surprise for Gus. And Justin."

“I’ll get an extra set of dishes,” Ma said with a sigh, turning back to the kitchen. “Welcome in, Brian,” she said, though it didn’t exactly sound welcoming.

“Dad, can I show you my new softball gloves,” I asked, tugging at his wrist. “Oh, and remember Jason my friend from Hebrew school? Well, turns out he broke his arm jumping off a tree so now he can’t do anything and I have to-“

“Gus, sweetie, I know you’re excited to see your Dad but he just got in. Maybe help Ma finish setting up brunch so he can get settled?” Mom rubbed my shoulder and I looked up at Dad, hoping he’d disagree. But he didn’t get a chance, because Ma must have heard and was yelling from the kitchen for me. Not fair. 

Dad just laughed, shrugging off his jacket. “I’d be happy to see your new gloves, Sonny Boy, but I don’t want to get in trouble with your Moms for pulling you away. I’d go help before your Ma turns us all into stone.” Mom sighed behind him and I nodded, running to the kitchen to see what Ma needed.

It didn’t take long to finish, and Dad somehow got roped into keeping JR company while we set all the food out. Somehow I never thought I’d see Dad holding a Barbie doll, but not many people could resist JR when said pwease and smiled with her two missing teeth. 

Just as we put the last of the cups out there was another doorbell. I saw Dad suddenly sit straighter from where he had been slouched on the couch, lazily waving the doll back and forth to JR’s great delight. He dropped the doll then put his hand on his knee, only to clench then go to his jean pocket then back to his knee. 

Mom flung the door open and sure enough, there was Justin and Adam. Mom pulled Justin into a warm hug and then offered a hug to Adam as well, despite just meeting him the night before. He accepted and returned however, and offered her a small wrapped bakery box in return.

“Thank you for the invite,” he said at last, as they toed off their shoes at the door. “You have a beautiful home,” he noted. Ma came up at that time and welcomed them both as well, and from the corner of my eye I saw Dad stand up from the couch, licking his lips. JR busied herself with taking the doll he had previously had and smashing it against the Ken doll. 

I waited for Dad and Justin to notice one another.

And then they did. 

Justin turned around after hanging his jacket on the coatrack, nearly bumping his face into Dad’s chest as Dad walked back towards the entrance. 

“Brian,” he gasped, eyes wide as his chest visibly rose and fell.

“Hey Sunshine,” Dad smiled, thumbs now tucked back into his jean pockets. “Did you notice the new ugly succulent out front?” 

“Brian,” Justin simply said again, but this time he threw his arms around Dad’s neck, standing on his toes as their cheeks grazed. It took him a moment, but Dad then returned the hug, and when he did, I almost felt like I should look away. He slid one arm tight under Justin’s shirt, the other around the part of his waist that was exposed from the lifting of his top. He tucked his face into Justin’s neck, and I thought maybe I had seen him place a kiss there. They were too closely intertwined to tell for sure. 

Next to them, Adam stood back watching with a small smile of his own. He scratched at his cheek, and Ma took that moment to ask him if he wanted a tour. Dad hadn’t even noticed him as they walked away.

Justin pulled back slightly, their arms still wrapped around one another. They just kind of looked at one another, like their blinking was morse code and fingers tracing letters into one another’s skin.  
“Hey,” Justin said finally, and I think Dad said it back, but it was so quiet and followed by him sweeping down and capturing Justin’s lips in his own. Yeah, I definitely looked away this time, groaning out loud. Gross. I could hear the wet smack of the kissing behind me as I turned, and Justins’ long, content sigh. I cringed harder. 

I was about to walk away completely when it stopped, and I heard Justin say something like wait wait wait. 

“Honey, let’s get our hands washed for the food, okay?” Mom put her hand lightly on my back, pushing me away from where Dad and Justin began talking in quiet voices. I peeked behind myself briefly as we left, and saw Justin was holding Dad’s hand but was no longer smiling. Neither of them were. 

I washed my hands and then helped JR wash hers, showing her how to get between her fingers and under her nails. By the time we came out everyone was seated. Ma and Mom were at the ends of the table as “proper hosts,” they once told me, with JR between Ma and myself and Dad at my other side. Mom had Dad and Justin at either side of her with Adam next to Justin and the lone empty seat on his other side. As I sat, Dad was twirling a fork in his hand absentmindedly, peering at Justin as he chatted amicably with Mom. 

“Well, Adam was telling me on our way that his Dad is beginning to send him in his place more often, not just when he’s sick,” he said, and Ma had leaned across the table to say something quietly to Adam as they talked. “And because he knows my work from when we used to hang around the East Village, he knows my journey up to this point and was talking about-“ he paused, turning to wear Adam was mid-bite of quiche. “Sorry, I’m talking for you.” 

“You’re excited, don’t apologize.” Adam reached over to pat Justin’s hand and Dad snorted suddenly. I looked up at him in question but he just smiled down at me. “I was simply envisioning a solo-show, perhaps a duo exhibition if the space warrants, that shows Justins’ journey in New York from ’06 to now. His story is so expressive and his art is deeply reflective. These days people are growing more focused on things that are relatable and I think he personifies growing stronger through heartbreak.” 

“And what heartbreak would that be, Adam?” Dad said suddenly, and I distracted myself with folding my napkin. It was the same tone he used with Ma and Uncle Michael from time to time, and I knew it meant argument. 

“Change,” Adam said simply, returning Dad’s biting grin. “Leaving everything you know. Friends, family, lovers.” He grabbed the napkin from the table and put it in his lap, not pulling away from Dad’s stare. “He was very young, as you know,” (at this point Justin grabbed Adam’s wrist and squeezed, not unlike when Mom would rub my back when she was warning me against something) “when he came to New York, and to start from essentially scratch is a scary thing. So yes, heartbreak.”

“It sounds like an incredible opportunity,” Dad said in return. “If you can make it happen.”

“Believe me, I want to. After last night’s show- you should have seen it, Brian. The turnout was incredible.” 

“I had a business arrangement I couldn’t pull myself away from. But I’m here now. And I plan on going after we’re done here.” Justin was moving from his chair now, giving Adam a pointed glare before excusing himself to the bathroom. He had been here before, only a couple of times, so Ma directed him as Dad and Adam finally pulled their gazes away from one another.

“I’m sure you’ll find it’s everything you’ve come to expect from Justin,” Adam continued over a drink of his mimosa. “Point is, I know of some galleries near Justin where Dad has done an incredible amount of business over the years. I want to reintroduce myself as a primary contact and establish my own reputation outside of him while simultaneously establishing Justin as no longer Up and Coming but here and here to stay.” 

“I’ve found those who use nepotism for personal gain rarely have talent of their own,” Dad started, and Mom quickly turned to slap his arm. “But the fact that you recognize Justin’s talent and that it needs to stand out more on its own shows you at least have an eye for it. And I’ll never understand why someone wouldn’t use every avenue possible to further their own success. It’s not a bad idea.”

“It’s brilliant,” Adam grinned in response, and suddenly the tight air that felt suffocating a moment ago was gone. 

At that point Justin was sitting back down, glancing between Dad and Adam as if to see if any squabbling was still there. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said. “Can you imagine? Not just your art being the focus but you. Oh sweetie, this could truly change everything for you.” 

“If it happens,” he corrected. “First we have to get the space. And then the advertising. It can’t be a success if no one hears about it.”

Dad threw up a hand, scoffing. “And you don’t know anyone would specialize in getting word spread en masse? Anyone who would have stake in every art publication not only in in New York but all major cities across the US?”

“It would be an art show, not an opening of a blockbuster movie,” Justin laughed, cheeks pink. “And I appreciate it, truly, but we’ve talked about this. I need to make it on my own.”

“But you’ll let Mary Jane Jacob here use his resources.” 

“Brian,” Justin started, but Dad didn’t let him finish his thought.

“You’ve made it. We’re all here because someone in a city hundreds of miles alway from you wanted people here to see your art. Just a few months ago you were in San Francisco. All I want is to help show it off.”

And well, that was the last of that argument. 

The rest of brunch went pretty easily. I got to tell Dad about Jason and my friend Clara who had freckles that looked like bloody snow. It was cool. Every now and then Dad and Justin would just look at each other, but not really say anything. Adam at one point was set on making a connection to JR, who I’ve already told you wasn’t great with strangers. At one point a piece of egg flew across the table and into his hair, to Mom’s great embarrassment but Dad’s great amusement. 

And. 

Okay, I’ve always been a little nosy. I wanted to show Justin what JR had drawn earlier in the week. Get a professional opinion, you know? Except when I went to go to the seating area where I saw him last it was just him and Dad sitting on the couch. I chose instead to the other side of the wall near the door but where I wasn’t in their line of vision. 

“…can’t keep going back pretending things are okay or normal,” Justin was saying, voice sounding a little wet and frustrating, like he had been crying. “I love you. I love you more than I did yesterday and less than I will tomorrow. And every time we meet up again I’m happier than I remember I could feel. And then you leave, or I do and…” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “Brian, you can’t tell me this doesn’t hurt.”

“And what else do you propose? I’ve already told you I’d go to New York.”  
“And Ted told me Kinnetik wouldn’t be financially able to expand for another two years. And even then, your clients count on you being there. I can’t ask you to risk something that you worked so hard to achieve. How many times do we have to go over this?” 

“Fuck the clients. Fuck Ted for talking to my- for talking to you about this-“

Justin snorted. “Your what, Brian?”

The clock ticked above me. I heard Adam somewhere outside, where Mom was probably showing him towards the shed where she kept her excess art. Dad didn’t reply.

“That’s what I mean. You don’t even know what I am to you, Brian, but I don’t either. This isn’t fair. To either of us.” 

“Boyfriend, Partner, Almost-Husband… Why the fuck does the title matter? It works. Or, I thought it was working.” There was a quiet rustling, like cloth against cloth. Their voices grew quieter and I used my hand on the small table to balance as I leaned closer to the wall.

“It works when we’re together,” Justin said, and I heard the small kiss. “But when we’re apart, it’s kills me. Just last week my agent asked how long it had been since I saw you because she could see it in my art. And I talked to Michael, Brian. I could tell he didn’t want to say anything, so don’t get mad at him…”

“The hell I won’t,” Dad started, but Justin spoke over him.

“He said you hardly go out anymore. He said you spend hours at the office and that Ted has to make deals with the janitors to shut down the lights after 1am or you’d still be at work. He said Debbie forced you to eat an extra helping of fries when she saw how much weight you’ve lost. That even when you go to dinner at his and Ben’s you only really smile when they talk about me or Gus.”

“I think I liked it better when you two hated each-other,” Dad said, and that annoying twinge in my chest happened again. Why was Dad working so hard? And why did it sound like Justin might be breaking things off when everyone told me they weren’t even together? 

“Brian. Please. Look at me. He also told me about Kyle.”

Wait. Who?

“Sounds like Mikey needs to learn how to shut his big fucking mouth shut,” Dad replied angrily, and I wish I could see what was happening. I suddenly remembered the mirror that was on the opposite wall of them, and if I crept to the turn of the hall and leaned just so- oh. There. I watched the small image of them in the mirror where Justin had his hand on Dad’s shoulder, their knees still touching and Dad was looking directly forward. I ducked, as if that would help anything, as I thought he might have seen my own reflection. But he didn’t do anything to suggest that he had. 

“I know that you never wanted a relationship, and that I broke every rule you had in your Brian Kinney Rules to Life handbook, but I want you to-“ he swallowed audibly. “I want you to at least have a friend who knew you after.” (he didn’t say after what, I noticed, but couldn’t ask for obvious reasons. Spying, and all.) “And if that’s a friend you fuck sometimes, then okay. And who knows, if there’s a connection, then I want you to go for it.” 

“I don’t need a boyfriend, Sunshine. You were enough for a lifetime,” Dad said, which I couldn’t tell was a compliment or not. “And besides, I don’t do set-ups. Especially by people like Ben, who only know other boring people. And he isn’t that hot. So, sorry, but, not interested.” 

“And when you leave Toronto, what happens? You go back to the office, maybe hit the club, and then what? Because I know what I’ll do. I’ll paint, create something, go to a show and meet people and go out and dance if it’s a Friday. And I’ll miss you. I’ll wait for you to call and if it goes too long I’ll call you. I’ll miss you in every moment you’re not with me. I’ll ignore the guys who ask me to dinner or want to fuck me because I’ll think it’s nothing compared to when we’re together.”

“No one ever asked you to be monogamous,” Dad intruded, using one of them any words I didn’t know yet. “And I’ll be fine. I always am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“And that’s the problem, you’ll be fine. I want you to be more than fine, Brian. Don’t you get it? We can’t do this because every time we’re apart all we can do is wait for the next time we’re not.”

Dad finally looked back at Justin, his smile small. “Did your agent really notice a difference in your art?”

“Yes,” Justin said, reaching out to run the back of his hand down Dad’s cheek. “I miss you. Even now, when we’re together, I’m missing you. Because all I can think is, is that this is temporary.” 

“This is it, then,” Dad said, grabbing Justin’s hand and bringing it to his lips with a kiss. “The whole purpose of you going out on your own was so I wouldn’t hold you back. And here I am, doing exactly that.”

“You’re not holding me back so much as motivating every single piece I do,” Justin said gently. “If anything, you’ve given me enough motivation to fill the entire Met.”

“But it would be a depressing theme. And it wouldn’t be that if I weren’t in the picture.”

Justin barely moved his head, the faintest of shakes. “And if you weren’t thinking of me, you could move forward. Be Brian fucking Kinney, King of Liberty Avenue and the greatest Ad Man in Pittsburgh. Maybe fucking some boring, not that hot guy named Kyle.” Dad laughed at that, but time seemed to still as they simply gazed at one another. 

“We’ll still see each other. But no more fucking, no more invisible ties, no more waiting. What it should have been in the first place,” Dad said, his own voice now sounding tighter. “And no more turning down dinner from men that could further your career. Or your love life. I know Adam hasn’t stopped looking at you since you’ve arrived. Well, whenever he’s not trying to kill me with his mind powers like Professor X.”

Justin laughed, shaking his head. “I take it you’ve been reading Mikey’s comics?”

“Please,” Dad rolled his eyes. “He just made me watch the trailer for the new movie. Fassbender is hot.” 

“I don’t-“ Justin said suddenly. “I don’t want to stop what we have. But I know we need it.”

“Would it be too much to ask for this last night to be in my hotel room at the Fairmont? I’d hate to send you off without the memory of the best you’ll ever have.” He winked, Justin rolled his eyes, but they kissed nonetheless. This was my cue to walk away.

Before my Dad left, he leaned down to ruffle my hair once more. “Next time you want to listen in on a conversation,” he whispered, “remember to hide before you’re seen.” Oops. 

Although Justin had arrived with Adam, he had left with Dad.

But several months later, I heard Mom on the phone with Justin as she was pulling weeds from the garden box. He was on speaker phone. 

“I had a feeling Adam had a crush,” she said as she balanced the phone against the window ledge. “How many dates has it been, then?”

“Just a few,” Justin said. “But when we went clubbing last week, and this really cute guy tried to kiss him, he told him he was seeing someone.”

“Is that so? And what did you think of that?”

“I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “I haven’t tried dating since Brian. Even now I feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m cheating on him. I mean, it’s probably leftover guilt from You Know Who.” 

She laughed as she threw more weeds behind herself, glancing over to where JR was smashing some flowers against rocks to make ‘perfume.’ “Don’t feel guilty, Justin. You and Brian need to move forward, not look back. You should have a partner who you can go home to after a hard day, a partner you can experience your new experiences with. For him, too! You can still be friends, after all we’ll always see one another during holidays or celebrations.”

“How is he? Be honest, Linds. Michael says he’s doing better but after last time I don’t know if he’s just saying that.” 

“Gus spent a couple weeks with him last month and said they had a great visit. Didn’t you, Gus?”

“Hi, Gus,” Justin said, probably unaware I had been helping the whole time.

“Hi, Justin,” I said back. “Dad’s doing great! He took almost the whole time off work! And when he had to go his friend Kyle took me to the zoo.” Mom suddenly stopped weeding and leaned back on her legs, hand wiping across her forehead. Justin didn’t say anything at first, and I thought maybe he hung up. “Justin?”

“That’s great, Gus,” he said, and his voice almost sounded too bright. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Gus, honey, can you take your sister inside to clean up? We should start getting ready for lunch, soon.” She wiped her gloved hands on her pant leg and motioned her eyes towards the phone, and I suddenly remembered Dad and Justins’ talk from when they were last up. Foot. Meet Mouth. 

Mom didn’t say anything to Justin while I went to take JR’s hand and bring her inside. 

So, like I said. Things were a bit complicated.


	2. Alcohol Interception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gus finds out how liquor can make people do strange things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have found it can be difficult to write a story where your three main characters all live in different cities. Also, I try to research but my apologies if any of my geography or native slang is wrong or off!

I was fourteen when I got drunk for the first time.

It was Orange Crush and Crystal Head Vodka that did me in and after three full red solo cups I couldn’t even remember when the alcohol had been brought out. My friend Jason was cradling his own drink, on his fourth attempt at showing Clara a card trick. I eyed the stray card that somehow made its way under the chair leg and as he flipped card after card to her face I wondered if his trick was somehow sticking the King of Spades under the wood.

I squinted at my iPhone, trying to scroll through Clara’s Facebook page without her noticing. ‘In a Relationship,’ I read with a frown, peering back to where Clara finally noticed the card under her chair and Jason pushed at her shoulder as she pulled it out. It also stated that she was 21, which I knew was false. So maybe that was…?

“Well if Gus ever decides on not being anti-social maybe he’d like to join us for a game of King’s Cup,” Jason was saying, throwing one of the many empty cups at me. “Unless whatever he’s looking at on his phone is more interesting.”

“No, no- I uh, my Dad just messaged me.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Dad was in town for business and promised we’d meet up for lunch or dinner. Only now it was 9pm and I was supposed to be studying but was definitely too late for either of those meals. It seemed to happen a lot whenever he came up.

_“Cost of success. And cost of you attending the best University you’ll be accepted to,”_ he said once. Pfft. I’d rather just have time with my Dad.

“Oh, your dad, um. Brian, right?” Clara scooted her chair closer to me, pushing her bright red hair over her shoulders. “Doesn’t he live in the States?”

“Yeah, he travels a lot for work. He’s in Toronto this week but he ditched out on me. Again.”

“That sucks, dude. At least he’s rich! My old man never visits and he’s dirt poor. Last Christmas he got me a scratch-off. For two dollars. And it was a losing ticket. Then he wanted to go to the store to get his money back, if you can believe it.” Jason laughed but I could tell he was over-compensating. Clara smiled sadly over at him before looking back at me over a drink of her soda-vodka cocktail.

“Money isn’t everything,” she said, before I could reply. “My mom’s mom left her everything when she died but that doesn’t make me miss grandma any less. And sure we get a nice home but Mom’s often too drunk to appreciate it. Or us.”

“Well, my Dad never lets me forget to be appreciative for it,” I said, maybe slurring my words a bit. “The only thing him and my Ma agree on. For me to be grateful. It’s like they don’t know how hard it is to be a teenager, you know? All this school, and rules. If they knew I was drinking…”

“You’re hammered, Gus,” Jason guffawed, nearly falling out of his chair as he slapped my leg. “Enjoy it!”

Just then Aanya, Clara’s friend, came out from the bathroom with a groan. Her pretty umber-brown skin paler from all the vodka she had just released into the toilet. “I think I’m ready to go back to your house,” she told Clara, hand still on her stomach.

“We can’t,” Clara frowned. “My mom will lose it if she-“ Clara hiccuped, covering her mouth. “My mom will kill me if she sees us like this.”

“Weren’t you the one who said your mom was always drunk anyway?” Jason asked, and I had to admit he had a point. “Besides, we haven’t even played 7-Minutes in Heaven!” Aanya groaned again at this, throwing herself across the couch in agony. Clara’s cheeks just turned as red as her hair and I, well, I tried not to look directly at her at the idea of the game.

“No way,” Aanya moaned from the couch. “There’s only four of us, and Clara has a boyfriend!”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Luke broke up with me,” Clara sniffled, and I felt my heart beat deep in my chest.

“But your Facebook still says…” Oh man, there goes that foot-mouth disease again.

Jason barked out a laugh, braces glinting in the dim-yellow light of the basement. “I knew it! You were on her Facebook page, weren’t you? Stalker!”

  
“No,” I tried to say, but Clara was looking at me with those pretty green eyes and I squirmed in my seat, clutching my phone tight to my lap. “I mean. Well, I wanted to see if were still friends because I think my page deleted people and well, I thought. Well-“

Just then a large hurling sound boomed from the couch and we all turned to watch as Aanya hurled all over the side of the sofa. Jason scrambled to grab another empty cup to throw under her mouth but in his drunken jerky movements only managed to bathe his arm in her vomit. And in return, he lost it.

Clara and I both looked at each other, eyes wide, and both scrambled up in panic.

“What do we do!? Jason’s brother will be so angry if he knows we snuck his vodka. And I can’t clean this up, I’ll start losing it too,” Clara cried out. And as if it emphasize her point, she turned to look at them again, both vomiting on that same poor spot on the rug, and clasped her hands in front of her mouth. “Ugh, Gus, what do we do?”

Like I knew?

I scrolled back to my phone where Dad had texted me that he’d take me to school in the morning before his flight out, and that if I wanted him to stop treating me like a kid that I needed to stop acting like one and realize work was work, etc.

There was no way I could ask my Moms. Mom would probably give me the ‘I’m not mad just disappointed’ talk, and Ma would definitely ground me for the rest of softball season. Not to mention they’d tease me endlessly about Clara. It was hard enough to tell them I wasn’t gay.

That left one option.

Twenty-three minutes later and six damp towels in the hamper after, Dad was loading the girls in the backseat and waiting for me to buckle myself up front. He passed me a ginger-ale and laughed quietly as I stole a glance at the girls through the rearview mirror.

“Do you always drink yourself sick to impress the girls?” He asked as I tore my gaze away, sipping at the soda.

“Iss my first time,” I confessed, waiting as Dad entered Clara’s home address into his GPS from her phone directory. He passed it back to her, her small voice over _‘thank you Mr. Kinney,’_ barely audible. “And I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“Bullshit,” he snorted. “The only reason teenagers drink is to impress someone. Be it a friend, a girlfriend,” he said, eyebrows raising while motioning with his head behind him, “or yourself. To prove you’re hot shit.”

“Are you going to tell my Moms?” I knew he would. I just hoped he wouldn’t.

“Can’t have Mothers of the Year worrying about their little baby, now can I?” He turned on his blinker in the rented car, watching carefully in front of him at the road. “Trust me, Sonny-Boy. They already know, even if I weren’t going to drop you off smelling like Dean Martin’s poker table.”

“Can’t I stay with you at the hotel?”

“Only room for one. Besides, I’m assuming by your state that you didn’t finish the homework you were supposed to be studying instead of having your party of the year?” He began slowing the vehicle as we zigzagged through Clara’s neighborhood, city lights now turning into large trees that poked into the night sky like stray needles.

“No,” I admitted, sinking further into my seat. “I don’t know why you have to be like them. I barely get to see you and you’re already yelling at me.”

“I’m not yelling,” Dad sighed, one hand reaching to push at my shoulder. “Don’t be such a drama queen. Hey, I Love Lucy, which one’s your house? The GPS stops working in the suburbs.”

“Just that white one up ahead the left,” Clara called out, rubbing Aanya’s back. “Thanks again.” He pulled into the driveway, and I looked back at Clara’s cringing face when we saw not only the porch light on but the light in the living room shining through the blinds. So much for getting in without her mom noticing. She scrambled out of the car, pulling on Aanya’s hand as she waved at us on her way in.We stayed put until the door shut behind them, which was when I heard Dad’s phone buzz between us. I glanced over and saw the preview of the message, which was of a bare ass, and looked immediately away. Gross.

Then the phone rang.

“Gus, can you get that for me,” Dad asked as he reversed the car. _Ugh. Please no_.

“Do I have to?” I asked, even as I took his phone and saw Kyle’s name on front. I mean, I didn’t dislike Kyle, but I also didn’t want to hear him after seeing what he had sent Dad. I shuddered.

“Haven’t you heard the news? Talking on a cellphone while driving is highly unethical-“

“Okay, okay,” I said, not wanting to hear more of his sarcastic preaching. I pushed the green symbol on the phone, and didn’t get a chance to say anything.

“Like the picture?” Kyle asked, in a tone that made me nearly more sick than the vodka.

“Not really,” I said honestly, and Dad looked over questioningly.

“Oh! Oh, Gus. I didn’t realize you were with your Dad.”

“He picked me up from my friends’ house,” I said, turning the phone to Dad to show him who was on the line. He only rolled his eyes in response, turning down the road that lead to home. “He’s driving so he can’t talk. Do you want me to show him the picture of your ass before I ask if he likes it, or…?”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, Gus. I should’ve known he may have been with you.”

“Tell the good man to call back another time,” Dad said, though loud enough that I was sure Kyle heard. “I don’t have the time tonight.”

By the time I was going to say exactly that, the phone call had already been disconnected.

  
So, by now I’m sure you’re thinking maybe Dad was mad at Kyle for something other than the surprise picture. Or mad that I had seen it. Maybe embarrassed, if Dad could feel such a thing.

But I should set things straight (I know, I know…) that Kyle wasn’t a boyfriend. And sure I had met him three or four times but Dad had only introduced him an acquaintance (I knew that word, now.) and a couple of times I saw Kyle kiss Dad, but it was nothing really more than that.

When I had told Jason about it one day he said maybe they were just fuck buddies and I threw my peanut-butter and banana sandwich at him, because ew.

“You know you’re kind of mean to him,” I said finally, handing the phone back to him before he slid it into his jacket pocket. “You could have a least said it was a nice picture.”  
  
“And why would I say that? I didn’t see it, so I couldn’t answer honestly.”

“Well I’m sure you’ve seen his ass before.”

“Okay, so what did you think? Nice?”

  
I shrugged a shoulder, trying not to remember. But Dad was obviously comfortable enough to talk to me about it, so I guess I wanted to impress him. “It was okay. Maybe a six.”

“A six,” Dad laughed, glancing over at me. “You’re a tough critic. How many asses have you seen?”

“I watched Ex Machina with Jason. And believe it or not but the internet does have Google images.” Not that I had looked. Not really. Jason once showed me a website with women who looked like they would topple over if they leaned too far one way or the other but I found it more disturbing than anything and didn’t go back to it.

“Smartass. Don’t go getting viruses on your computer. Your Moms work hard to give you what you have and the last thing I need is the butch brigade coming after me for more money.”

“It’s not like you don’t have enough,” I grumbled as he turned into our neighborhood. It’s not like he never helped out, but he also didn’t act like other parents of kids I went to school with. I had started having to do things like mow yards and babysit JR to begin getting an allowance or to see movies with friends. What was the point of some CEO Dad who made his own son work to do things for fun?

“Yeah, well, you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t know how to get there on your own,” he replied, gravel cracking under the tires as we pulled in front of our house. “For starters, facing Mother Dearest and Mother Fearmost. Here, have a mint.” He pulled an Altoids tin from his jacket, holding it out to me. “It may go better if you dull the stench of that cheap vodka from your breath.” 

I grumbled but grabbed two- no, make that three- mints as I exited the car. “Are you still gonna take me to school in the morning?”

“I’ll bring the Gatorade. That hangover is going to be a bitch.”

And of course, he was right.

The lecture from my Moms as I came through the door, however? Worse than a hundred hangovers.

  
~*~

Two months later, and only a week after my grounding had finally been complete, JR had a kids production of The Little Mermaid where she was going to play one of Ariel’s fish friends. It was a small role that wasn’t even in the movie and had only like 14 lines or something, but both Ma and Mom decided to invite all of Pittsburgh to see the production.

  
And somehow, 3/4 of Pittsburgh were all able to come up on the same weekend to see the show.

We only had one guest room between Ma and Moms room, JR’s, my own and Ma’s office. (Mom used the basement as her studio.) So Ma promised me the new Super Smash Bros game if I agreed to bunk with JR for the duration of the visit and managed to shove her office supplies to the corner so we could have three sets of guests. Dad, of course, booked a hotel. JR’s Dads would get the regular guest room, Debbie agreed to take my room (I made sure to remind myself to hide the Rihanna Vogue magazine under my bed) and Justin and Adam were going to take and somehow squeeze onto the office futon.

And since everyone was going to be in town, that meant big special dinner. Which meant as usual, I had to help with all the cooking even though it wasn’t my idea to have the dinner in the first place.

  
At least JR was old enough now where she was asked to help as well.

Adam made it to town before Justin and explained Justin had to deal with some art gallery in the morning so had to catch a later flight. “He should be here no later than 9pm,” he explained as he rolled his bag behind him. His hair was shorter now in a close cut, curls gone, and had thick framed glasses that I wondered ifthey were more for appearance than sight. “Hope it’s not too much trouble I’m here first.”

“Of course it isn’t. It’s wonderful to see you,” Mom said as she kissed his cheek. “Here, let me put this in your room. Mel’s office that is. I’m sorry it’s a bit tight.”

“Don’t fuss. As long as there’s a surface to sleep on, it’s plenty. Great to see you, too. Gus, how’s it going, my friend?” He reached out his first and I gave it a small bump, this time visibly rolling my eyes. He did this every time. “Since I’m here, I’m happy to help where I can. It already smells amazing.”

“Don’t you dare. Michael, Ben and Debbie are with JR helping her rehearse for the big show tomorrow. I’m sure they’d appreciate the adult company. Gus, honey, can you go help Ma in the kitchen?”

Not too long after Debbie, Michael and Ben had somehow escaped the 7th read through of JR’s lines and had migrated to the living room. They rescued me from the kitchen to ask about school and friends. I was midway between telling them about my last game when Debbie sniffed the air.

“Something needs a bit of help,” she said with a smack of her gum. “Let me make sure your Moms aren’t ruining the chicken. Good job, Gus, way to knock those kids dead,” she laughed, patting my cheek as she scampered to the kitchen.

“Any more incidents with friends collectively puking,” Michael asked with a quirk to his lips, and I groaned. Really? Did my Dad have to tell everyone? Ben simply shook his head, smiling up at me sympathetically.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I sort-of lied while rubbing my neck. “I think it was the Pizza Pops we ate. No one was that drunk.”

“Now, now,” Ben cautioned as Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “I think we can all agree we all did some pretty dumb things when we were 14. The important thing is that nobody was seriously hurt. And you were pretty smart to call your Dad.”

“A lot of good that did,” I sighed. “He just left me to face my Moms alone and bailed. A cooler Dad would’ve let me stay with him and not said anything.”

“Not to mention your Dad was already into a lot worse at your age,” Michael said under his breath, not that it made much difference since I could hear anyway. “I mean- Ben’s right. If you’re going to do go out and do something like that, it’s better that you have someone you can call if things go wrong.”

The doorbell rang. And rang. And rang again, all in quick succession.

“I’ll get it,” I called out. Since Adam had already told us that Justin would be arriving later, it had to be my Dad.

“Hey Sonny Boy. Miss me?” And it was. I was going to give my Dad a hug when I remembered that I was A) too cool for that now and B) still kind of mad at him.

“I guess,” I grumbled, and grew more annoyed when he just shouldered past me inside, chuckling at my tone that was supposed to convey anger and hostility.

He bumped into Adam on his way in, who had been carrying a garbage bag on his way out to take to the bin outside, and they kind of awkwardly just looked at each other. I knew they were friendly, as friendly has an ex-boyfriend and current boyfriend of the same partner could go.

“Hey Brian,” Adam said first. “Everyone is in the living room. I was just taking the garbage out.”

“You can take yourself out? Does Justin know you do tricks?”

Well, friendly minus the jabs they managed to throw at least two or three times a meeting.

Adam just laughed sarcastically before going outside, and Dad smiled back at me as he turned into the living room to greet Michael and Ben. I poked my head in the kitchen to let Mom and Ma know that he arrived and watched as Debbie was showing JR how to properly season the chicken.

By the time I made it back Dad had his legs stretched and feet propped on the coffee table from the chair that definitely reclined, but I didn’t say anything. Ben had his arm stretched around Michael’s shoulders while Michael tucked his head under his husband’s chin and they just looked so happy and comfortable that I grew a little jealous of JR. Mom and Ma still fought every so often and sometimes it grew so bad I began wondering which one I’d live with if they ever got a divorce. (okay, most likely Mom, as often as they tried to convince JR and I our ‘bio-mom’ didn’t matter.) But for the most part they seemed okay. But JR had two moms and two dads. I had two moms and a Dad who I couldn’t tell if he actually wanted a partner or not.

“Have you talked to Kyle lately, Brian?” Ben was asking while Dad just flipped through one of Mom’s art books. “He was saying at yoga that haven’t been answering his calls.”

“That would usually be the first sign to someone to not keep calling,” Dad said back, stopping at a page with a frown. He turned the book around to show us. “Did Georgia O’Keefe have a protege or do all artists now dabble in pussy?”

“That’s actually Sue Riley and she’s a deaf sculptor based in Chicago,” Adam said from the other side of Michael. “I met her last summer and she’s incredible. She has a great eye for the human form.”

“Of course you have,” Dad mumbled while licking his finger before turning to the next page dramatically.

“So what? You’ll go another six months ignoring Kyle and then when you decide you have too much work to go out and hunt for your next prey you’ll call him again to fill your time?” Michael was saying, and Dad paused in his reading to roll his head back to Michael where he had expression that said he was very much finished with this conversation.

“That’s generally how it goes,” he confirmed. “Why the fuck does it matter who I choose to talk to or fuck? He knew from when we first met that I wasn’t looking for any type of relationship and I’m certainly not looking for one now. But I don’t hate his company from time to time and it’s the way this arrangement works. If he doesn’t like it he can find what he wants elsewhere.”

“I seem to recall when someone else was put in that position,” Michael said, to which Dad simply glared at him before snapping the book shut. “I’m just saying,” Michael continued, but Ben was clasping a hand to his thigh, quieting him.

“It’s not the same,” Dad said simply, and judging by Adam clearing his throat, it was clear in the room no-one had to hear the name to know who they were talking about.

And speaking of the Sunshine…

“Ah, shit,” Adam said suddenly, glancing down at his phone. ‘Justin said messaged me. His plane has landed but his card company put a pause on his account for fraud suspicion since he’s out of the country so he’s worried he can’t get a cab. I’ve already been drinking,” he said with a motion to his wine glass. “So I can’t pick him up.”

“I’ll do it,” Dad said, pushing up from his chair. “Anything to get out of this pointless discussion.” Adam looked apprehensive but Dad rolled his eyes, throwing his hand out towards me. “Look if you’re worried I’m going to come on to your boyfriend I’ll take Gus with me to babysit. Although if you don’t trust him after all these years…” 

“I trust him completely,” Adam said politely back. “Not that he needs my permission. But fine. Thank you Brian. Thank you, Gus.” And I knew I wasn’t getting out of it. Fine, if it meant not having to help in the kitchen.

“Go tell your Moms, Sonny Boy. I’ll start the car,” Dad was saying.

The drive didn’t take too long, and it was made easier by the fact Dad let me pick between the two radio stations he had cleared as okay. He had already texted Justin that he was picking him up in place of Adam and asked for his flight details to get to the right terminal.

“Dad, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he responded and I rolled my eyes, choosing not to point out what a Dad comment that was as I knew he hated it.

“Why isn’t Kyle your boyfriend? I mean, I know you, you have sex with him-“ I felt my cheeks go red. “And sometimes you hang out but other times you don’t. Why don’t you just date?”

Dad sighed as he pulled up to the curb where a line of cars were already, people running out to hug and kiss and greet one another. “Because I don’t do the boyfriend thing,” he said simply. “Being in a relationship means you open yourself up a road of sacrifice and heartbreak and unnecessary commitment. I don’t want to be held down, so why would I put myself in that position? If I see a hot guy and want to hook up, why wouldn’t I? Because one person will be upset?”

“Ma and Mom are happy. JR’s Dads are happy. Justin and Adam are happy.”

“Yeah, well, just because other people decide they’re perfectly happy tied together for the rest of eternity doesn’t mean I’m going to be. Tying yourself down is a train headed to Doomsville. I’d rather take myself off before the crash.”

At that point there was a knock on the window to my seat and I turned to see a beaming Justin. Dad was already getting out of the car as I took him in. His hair was windblown and slightly askew, cheeks pink and with a thin tobacco-brown jacket wrapped tightly around him. I watched as he turned to greet Dad, one hand still on his roller bag. Dad grabbed the flaps of his jacket, saying something with a smirk that made Justin laugh and shake his head. He then leaned up to kiss Dad’s cheek and I felt myself smiling at the large grin that spread across Dad’s face. Suddenly Dad was opening my door and motioning outside.

“Well? Get out. Help Justin and get in the back.” I sighed and turned to where Justin was balancing his bag while opening the trunk of Dad’s rental.

“Hey, Gus. Thanks for coming to get me,” Justin said as he reached out to hug me. Okay, maybe I wasn’t too cool to hug some people. “I can sit in the back if you don’t want to. I don’t mind.”

“No you won’t,” Dad said as he pushed some button on his keys that opened the trunk and took Justin’s bag to load it in. “Gus got to sit in front all the way here. You just got out of a packed flight. You could use the leg room.”

“Guess it’s pointless to try and defy you,” Justin replied. “Thanks again, Brian.”

“It’s nothing. I should be thanking you. I would have thrown myself in front of the next car if it meant another moment being grilled by The Professor and Company.” 

“That bad, huh?” Justin laughed as we loaded back in the car. “What was it this time?”

“Kyle,” Dad said, and I was a little surprised to hear him without hesitation. “Somehow they have this idea that just because I fuck him on and off it means I want to walk down the aisle and register at Kohl’s.”

“Brian,” Justin scolded, and I saw his eyes motion towards mine through the rearview mirror. “Gus…”

“Oh, sorry. Just because I eff-you-see-kay him.”

“I can spell, Dad,” I reminded, rolling my eyes. Dad just shrugged, and although like any other 14-year old I definitely did not want to hear about his sex life, I appreciated that he never treated me like I was still a little kid.

“Well maybe they have a point,” Justin was saying. “It has been a while since you started messing around. Relationship or not people are going to get the idea it might mean something more. Does it?”

“Please,” Dad snorted. “He has a nice ass, decent cock and for the most part leaves me alone when I want him to. Convenience hardly means I’ve fallen under his spell and it definitely doesn’t mean it’s more than it is.”

“And how do you know he feels the same way? Do you know what he asked me when I came up for Molly’s college graduation and saw him at Woodys?”

I may have imagined it, but I saw Dad’s hand tighten on the wheel. “What?”

“He asked when you first kissed me outside of-“ he paused, clearing his throat, speaking quieter as if to avoid my hearing (but I had really good hearing). “-outside of sex. When I told him how early on it was I saw that look in his eyes.”

  
“And what look was that?”

“The same one I felt when you hooked up with that guy from Atlanta in front of me.”

“Jesus, you still remember that? He meant nothing.”

“I know,” Justin was saying, flipping his phone over as it kept flicking on with numerous texts messages. “I know that now, but then? My point is you forget the affect you have over people. The more you don’t care the more he wants you to. It’s like the French expression, ‘la douleur exquise.’”

  
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Directly translated it’s ‘exquisite pain,’ but the translation doesn’t come through English very well. It’s more the pain you feel when you want something you can’t have. That pain, that ache. It’s hard to explain. But I think that’s what I saw with Kyle.”

“Kyle doesn’t love me,” Dad said with a huff. “Can we stop talking about this? I came to pick you up to get away from this conversation.”

“And what do you want to talk about?”

“How was the food on your flight?”

Justin laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Mm, the peanuts were okay. The water tasted like pool water, though.”

“Is that what they’re serving in first class these days? I told you you could use my miles. You could at least eat at the lounge before boarding.”

  
“I didn’t fly first class,” Justin said, drawing sharp lines that eerily resembled Dad’s profile on the condensation of his window with his finger. “Funds are a bit tight right now, I flew coach.” He smiled as Dad turned to him incredulously. “It’s not that terrible, Brian. Us simple folk do it often.”

“The man who just finished a solo exhibition in twelve major US cities is hardly a simple folk,” Dad argued. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything? I have miles coming out of my ass. And why are funds so tight after such a big deal? I actually had someone outbid me on the last piece I tried to get during your stop in Pittsburgh.”

Justin chewed at his lip, working on the hair on his pseudo drawing. “Um. I guess I could tell you. We were going to make the announcement tonight. Adam and I just bought a condo in Brooklyn. Renting just didn’t make sense anymore, not when we’re hardly ever home. And if he ends up needing to back to London we can always rent it out.”

“Wow. Congratulations,” Dad said, voice free of his usual sarcasm or cynicism. “When did you close the deal?”

“Just a couple of weeks ago. I was going to call everyone but when Mel and Linds invited us to come up to see JR’s show I thought-“

“You’d steal a little girl’s thunder?” Ah. There it was. But Justin only laughed quietly in response, turning to the window to wipe at a stray drop that leaked down the window and resembled a tear from Drawing Dad’s eye.

“It’s always nicer to talk about these things in person,” Justin answered.

Dad’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel and the silence felt heavy. Justin had leaned his head against the window now, and Dad was focused on the road. Justin’s phone chimed again and he looked at it, began typing, but then turned it off once more.

I only saw a couple of the texts form my angle, but I had seen enough.

_Is Brian Behaving?_ \- Came the text from Adam.

_Brian never behaves. And he wouldn’t be him if he did._ \- Justin had typed back.

_Are you almost here?_ \- Adam

I _told him_ \- Justin said instead.

_…_

_…_

And finally, nothing.

The dinner was complete by the time we arrived. JR was the only one who was eating as the rest of the family had waited for us to arrive but Ma and Mom needed to get JR ready for bed. Mom hugged Dad tight and whispered something in his ear. He leaned back and gave her a small smile. Justin gave his rounds of hugs and shared a quick kiss with Adam while Dad was conveniently turned away.

Ma tried to shuffle me to bed when Adam began pouring the shots after a pretty standard dinner but Dad convinced her that it was rare for us to all be together outside of Thanksgiving so I was promised another hour (but it turned into two) to stay with the family.

“Chin chin,” Adam said as everyone but Ben and Mom threw back some amber liquid. It smelled like something we cleaned with. I was reminded of the vodka from my party with friends and my stomach was suddenly feeling light.

Debbie was giggling as she poured the group a second shot and this time Ma stepped away too, helping Mom clear the dishes from around the table. “I’m too old for more than one,” she said as she waved the offer away. “But please, enjoy yourselves. Just keep it down, we don’t want to wake JR. And Gus, remember. You’re down to fifty-six minutes.”

“Yes, Ma,” I said with a roll of my eyes.  
  
“Hey. Respect your Mom,” Debbie was saying as the liquid sloshed out the side of the shot glass she was pouring. “Your a lucky kid, getting those two wonderful women as your parents. Almost worth having him as your Dad,” she said as she handed Dad his glass with a loud laugh and a pop of her gum.

“You always have the most wonderful things to say to me,” Dad said with a smile, leaning over to kiss Debbie’s cheek.

I watched as Adam took his shot and then Justin’s, who hid a yawn behind his hand. “Now then, don’t tell me you lot can’t keep up,” he teased once everyone slammed their drinks down. Which of course my Dad took as a dare and the rest of the group stepped away as they clinked their glasses together before taking another shot.

“Hey,” Justin said as he pulled at Adam’s sleeve. “Slow down,” he said quietly, glancing around to ensure no-one was watching as he said it. Thankfully I still had a couple years to grow so I was just below his line of vision.

The group cleared the drinks and glasses to the kitchen before pulling out cards to play Blackjack. I knew it was mostly because I knew how to play and hadn’t learned Poker yet, but I appreciated being included. Justin had looked a bit pale, smiling throughout but seeming a bit subdued form his usual demeanor. I watched as between turns Adam reached his hand out to rub the back of his neck. They looked attractive side by side, with the contrasting skin and hair colors, both slight in body build and wide, white grins. I kept thinking about how Justin told Dad about their buying a condo together versus when they had announced it to the rest of the group.

Everyone seemed excited for them, asking details about the condo like how many bathrooms there were and what it was close to (apparently three Duane Reade’s within a five block radius, whatever that meant.)and if they had planned on getting any pets. (Justin was allergic, so maybe a fish.)

Dad was quiet, though at one point I saw him exchange a silent smile with Justin. He had tipped his wine glass in congratulations, and went back to biting into a dinner roll.

I had noticed that between rounds of the game that Adam had disappeared into the kitchen a few times, and sometime between the first shot and his fourth losing hand, he was decidedly drunk. Ma and Mom had already gone to bed at that point, typically going not too long after JR. Justin excused himself and Adam from the table, leading his stumbling boyfriend towards their temporary room by the elbow. The glimmer of light from the hallway made the silver necklace around Adam’s neck sparkle as they rounded the corner, and Ben raised his eyebrows with a tight smile.

  
“And that’s exactly a reason to not drink,” he said to me, and I imagined my Dad definitely told everyone about my dud of an experimentation with friends. “It’s all fun and games until you feel it in the morning. You can have just as much fun without drugs and alcohol.”

“Now, Ben, there’s no reason to lie to the boy,” Dad said as he reached out to ruffle my hair. “Besides, he learned his lesson. If he’s going to drink young, he needs to drink only the best. If you drink shit you’ll feel like shit.”

“Don’t encourage your son to drink, Brian,” Michael said while rolling his eyes, dealing out another hand. “Do you think Justin’s coming back?”

“Brian’s encouraging Gus to drink?” Came Justin’s voice in response, plopping down on the vacant seat next to Dad.

“Ever the perfect role model,” Debbie said as she frowned down at her cards. “Well, shit. These cards are pointless.”

“You’re not supposed to say that,” I pointed out, though mine couldn’t be much better.

“What, shit? Well, shit. I mean fuck!” She tapped the table as Michael looked at her expectantly, sighing heavily when an 8 of Hearts was turned out in front of her.

  
“No, I mean, you shouldn’t let us know what you have. It gives us an advantage to know to risk it if we know you’re afraid of going over.” Jason had shown me last summer how to play, and I had planned on showing Clara that night at the party, but…

“You already taught him how to gamble, huh?” Debbie asked Dad, who was busy craning his neck towards Justin to peek at his cards. Justin pulled his hands away, laughing as he shook his head.

“It wasn’t me,” Dad said, putting down his cards while pulling down a cigarette from behind his ear. “Kids learn things from friends, you know. I taught Mikey all he knows about jerking off.”

“Don’t I know it,” Debbie said with a roll of her eyes as Michael yelled Dad’s name in protest from the other side of the table.

“Smoke?” Dad turned to Justin waving the cigarette between his fingers after the round had finished.

“Mmm, I quit last month. But I’ll join you,” Justin said, moving from his seat. “We’ll be back,” he told the table as they turned to go outside. I leaned to the side to watch as they walked out, silently wondering how I could follow without being seen.

“I thought Justin and Adam had broken up last year,” Debbie was saying when I brought my attention back to the table. “And now they bought a house together?”

“It wasn’t exactly a breakup, and it’s a condo not a house,” Michael corrected, folding his hands over his chest as he leaned back in his seat. “Adam had to stay in Chicago for six months and they agreed to take a break, see what the time apart would do to them.”

“And they must have realized they wanted to really be together because they were back together before Adam even went back to New York,” Ben continued, drinking from his tea I had put together for him. “It’s exciting news. I’m happy for them both.”

“Me too,” Michael said, turning to kiss his husband. Their eyes crinkled as they smiled at one another and I wondered if this was what Adam and Justin had wanted.

“Shit, is it really that late already?” Debbie squinted at the clock over the entrance to the kitchen. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to get to bed so I can wake up in the morning to make us pancakes. You like chocolate pancakes, honey?” She asked me.

“Only with lots of maple syrup,” I said and she smiled as she got up, squeezing my cheek.

“Just like your Dad,” she said with a wink. Michael and Ben followed, each wishing me a goodnight and reminding me to go to bed myself soon as it was past the time Ma had asked me to go. But Dad and Justin were outside and well, as I already told you, I’ve always been a bit nosy.

I remembered the door that led to the backyard through the utility room. We typically had it blocked with Mom’s blank canvases and other art supplies. However, if I just crept through there and rounded the side of the house…

Thankfully, it was dark outside and the light that usually lit automatically over the backdoor had burned out some months ago, so I used my hand as a guide on the side of the house to walk carefully towards the patio where I knew Dad usually smoked. Mom had just put a new planter box out that she hadn’t yet used and it was the perfect height for me to kneel behind it as I spotted my Dad and Justin talking beneath the patio light.

Dad had his eyes closed and his head tipped up as he blew some rings, back straight against the wall with Justin beside him. Justin was watching him carefully, and he licked his lips as Dad brought the cigarette back to his mouth, taking a long inhale. It was the smell and heavy smoke that made me realize it wasn’t a cigarette, but definitely weed.

“You ever hear of Sue Riley?” Dad asked, and Justin laughed in surprise.

  
“Like the vagina sculptor? Yeah, I’ve heard of her. Adam worked with her back in Chicago. She’s incredibly gifted. You know her?”

“I may have seen some of her work,” Dad said, opening one eye to squint down at Justin. “Who knew pussy could be such a lucrative career? Well, outside of prostitution.”

“That’s the beauty of art,” Justin said as he watched Dad’s every movement. “Anyone can find beauty in anything.”

“You sure you don’t want a hit?” Dad asked, holding out the joint. “You sure look like you could use it. Between the house and work. You know I only get the best shit.”

“Adam would kill me,” Justin said back, but didn’t say no, I noticed. “He’s out cold, though. You really shouldn’t challenge him to drinks. He can’t handle his liquor.” 

“He challenged me,” Dad argued through his teeth where he held the spliff as he dug through his jacket pocket for his lighter. “You’re not thinking of lying to your dear ol’ husband, now, are you?”

“He’s not my husband,” Justin said, and I watched as he stepped just a bit closer to Dad, their hips angled towards each other. “And it’s not lying if -“ he bit his lip, closing his hand around Dad’s and pushed their joined hands towards Dad’s mouth. “Here…” He watched steadily as Dad inhaled, and before he exhaled the smoke, Justin took one more step forward, a knee between Dad’s. He leaned up, pressing one of his fingers to Dad’s lips as he removed the joint. Justin closed his eyes and barely opened his mouth and oh. Shit. Dad slid his empty hand down Justin’s back as he pushed their lips together, a twirl of smoke dancing between them as it escaped.

They stayed that way for a moment, barely an inch between them, Justin only being held up by Dad’s hand on his lower back, fingers curled tight. I heard a pounding, and wondered if it was my heart from fear of being caught looking at such a private moment or if it was one of theirs.

“See?” Justin said finally, swallowing as he stepped back. “I don’t have to lie. I didn’t smoke myself.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were coming on to me, Sunshine,” Dad said, voice lower than I was used to and a little bit raspy.

“Tell me about Kinnetik,” Justin said instead, and stepped back and away, as if nothing had happened. “How was your last financial quarter?”

“A stunning success, as always. In fact,” he said between another inhale, “I left a message before I flew out today with your mother’s assistant.”

“My mom? Wait-“ Justin suddenly smiled widely, teeth bright even in the dull lighting. “Are you looking at a second office in Pittsburgh?”

“Not Pittsburgh.”

“Philly?”

“No.”

“Chicago?”

“Getting closer.”

“Brian. Don’t tell me. Are you ready to open an office in New York?”

“If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere,” Dad half-sung, stubbing the roach against the side of the house. “We got our numbers back. Ted said between the commercial real estate market out there and our record earnings we’d be idiots not to take the dive now.”

“Brian, that’s amazing!” Justin threw his hands around Dad’s neck, hugging him tight. Dad’s hands hovered over his back before returning the embrace, flicking the roach away so he could place both hands around him. “Congratulations. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Someone has to let JR enjoy the spotlight without taking it away,” Dad said as Justin pulled away, looking a bit sheepish. “Besides, nothing is set in stone. First order of business is finding a place. And from my understanding it’s quite competitive at the moment.”

“Well if anyone help find you a place, I know my Mom will.”  
  
“I’d only hire the best,” Dad agreed, scratching at his temple. “Guess that will make us neighbors. Well, sort-of. There’s no way I’d move to Brooklyn.”

“What, too bohemian?”

“Please. As if I’d get a place in New York and not want to be within five-minutes of Fifth Avenue.”

“Mmm, but the best gay clubs are in Chelsea. Unless you like piano bars with old geezers looking for sugar babies. Although, you’re getting closer to the geezer age of the spectrum,” Justin teased while Dad glared back.

“I’ll figure it out. This geezer has a few good years left yet,” he said with a pinch to Justin’s side, who swatted his hand away while laughing.

Justin shivered as a cool breeze swept through, hugging his jacket together to himself. “What about Kyle?”

“Jesus, I thought we dropped this conversation. What about Kyle?” When Justin didn’t respond Dad snorted. “Exactly. He’s a non-issue.”

“I’m proud of you,” Justin said, and he sounded so sincere and kind and warm that, yeah, this was the Justin that I found could light up a room and make anyone feel welcomed and loved. “From losing everything to building this company from the ground up. Through your cancer, the bombing, your mom’s death. You’re really incredible, you know that, right?”

“Obviously,” Dad started, but Justin shook his head, reaching his hand out to grab Dad’s jaw to force him to look in Justin’s own.

“No. I mean it. I know you didn’t hear it growing up and you’ve built this facade that you don’t need to hear it but I want you to. You’re incredible, Brian. You’re fucking amazing and smart and brilliant and you give so much without wanting to make a big deal out of it because it’s easier for you to hear people call you an asshole than hear that you’re loved. And you are.”

And well, huh. Dad could be an asshole and it did really make me angry every time he cancelled our visits or said mean things to my Ma. But he also always made sure we never had a broken utility or empty fridge. When JR broke her arm when she was 6 he sent her a life-sized teddy bear that she could sit against while playing with her dolls. He made sure I had not just the calculator the school told me to get for Math but an extra one and a tutor at that.

I looked back and instead of arguing, Dad smiled down at Justin, almost sadly, and swept a hand through Justin’s hair. I almost thought they were going to kiss for real this time, except at that moment another body came through the shadows and into the light.

“Justin?” Adam called, voice stretched and still a bit slurred. Whether from fatigue or the drinks I couldn’t really tell. “You coming back to bed, Baby?”

I saw Dad mouth ‘baby’ to Justin in question and Justin just shoved at his shoulder, smiling.

“Don’t start,” he said to Dad. “I’m coming Adam,” he called back, walking towards his boyfriend who had changed into a long nightshirt and pajama bottoms.

“You know there’s a door right out here, right?” Dad asked and I froze in spot. Oh no. If they went that way they’d pass the planter box and definitely see me. I flung myself to the ground, crawling military style towards the door as I let the voices become smaller behind me.

Thankfully this time, I wasn’t caught.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm gonna stretch this out a bit more. This story is really writing itself at this point. Next will be JR's show. Thanks for the comments, you all are so sweet!


	3. Aerial Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gus learns about heartbreak after some breakfast and the gang finally go to see JR's show. And just maybe Brian and Justin have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii. Thank you for your kindness! This story will start to teeter towards why this is called Dangerous Grounds and I hope you all enjoy.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. I stretched awake, JR’s toes tickling my chin as we shared her small twin bed. I pushed her foot away and she just swung it back to my nose, giggling.

  
“Ugh, your feet smell like rotten eggs,” I groaned, throwing my legs over the bed, her Big Hero 6 blanket soft under my hands. She just threw her pillow at me, and I decided the floor would probably be more comfortable next time. “Come on,” I said to her, “let’s get ready for breakfast.”

“I’m gonna eat twelve pancakes,” she announced as she followed me into the bathroom down the hall, waiting for me to pull out the blue rubber stool to put in front of the sink for her. “I bet I can eat more than you.” She stood on the stool, which she was probably getting too old for (but I thinks he liked being temporarily taller than me) and splashed water on her face. “Oh! Hi Justin! Hi Adam!” She beamed as she waved through the open bathroom door. I reached through the medicine cabinet to grab my acne cream and hid a snicker when Adam gave a weak smile back, in obvious pain, and Justin was close behind him as he rubbed his back.

“We’ll meet you in the dining area,” Justin said quietly, leading his boyfriend further down the hall.

“Oh here, honey, don’t forget your chin,” came my Ma’s voice suddenly as she walked in the bathroom, taking the cream from me and spreading it on her finger. “You’ve got a spot behind your ear, too,” she murmured, and I smelled her body-wash of vanilla and pomegranate as she leaned down to apply it for me.

  
“Ma,” I sighed, growing red as Michael and Ben proceeded to pass by, also wishing us a good morning. “Ma, I can do it myself.”

“Gus, will I also grow red spots on my face?” JR asked and I kicked at the stool. “Ma! Did you see what he did?”

“Gus, be nice to your sister,” and of course she took her side. I grumbled as Ma kissed my forehead and took JR’s hand to walk out of the bathroom. “Finish cleaning up and come get breakfast. Deb made enough to feed all of Toronto.”

When I got to the table JR was leaning across the table on her elbows to reach for the syrup, Mom beside her and reaching out to pull her hair up as it dangled over her food. Debbie was flipping more pancakes on the large serving dish in the middle of the table from the cast iron, long red nails of her free hand scratching at Michael’s shoulder as he used his fork curiously like JR.

Ben didn’t have a plate in front of him but was eating an apple and hot tea. Ma had taken a seat on the other side of JR, craning her neck behind JR to kiss Mom hello. I took a seat at the end of the table, figuring the plate at the other end was for Debbie since it had two partially bit into pancakes. Which meant I got to sit between Mom and Dad, with Justin and Adam by Michael and Ben. It was still weird having that many people at the table, and we had to get the extending piece out just for the occasion.

Adam was resting his head in his palm, picking at his food but not really taking any bites. Justin was smiling sympathetically at him, taking his fork from him and attempting to help him take a bite.

“Food helped me when I had a hangover,” I said to Adam, and Dad laughed beside me.

“Already an expert, huh Sonny Boy?” Justin snorted and jumped a bit in his seat shortly after, to which I assumed wasn’t a coincidence with the way my Dad’s leg had moved to kick at Justin’s foot under the table. “Maybe Justin should make his Grandma’s old recipe.”

“I’d rather have the hangover,” Adam groaned. “Besides, I don’t think we have moldy socks or cow anus lying around to make it.”

“It’s not that bad,” Justin said, but I could tell by his small smile that it definitely was. “Adam, maybe you should lie back down. We were all going to just walk to the park with JR and I think Gus was the only one who planned on staying so he could get his homework done. So it will be nice and quiet.”

“I just need to shower and I’ll be right as rain. Besides, we don’t get enough time with your friends and family. They’re much nicer than my own. I don’t want to ruin the weekend for you because I have a low tolerance.” Adam took an actual bite now, giving Justin a weak smile. “See? I’m getting there.”

“If you’re sick maybe you need medicine,” JR volunteered, syrup somehow on her cheek and in her hair. Mom sighed as she dipped a napkin in her glass of water, leaning over to wipe at the visible spots.

“This is what happens when people try to best your Uncle Brian,” Dad said to JR, leaning over the table to steal one of her cut pieces of pancake from her plate to her great delight, as she playfully hit his hand with her fork.

“Sweetie, we don’t hit people,” Michael was trying to say, but breathed in with a roll of his eyes when Dad threw the piece of pancake at Michael, hitting him square in the cheek. “Really, Brian? How old are you?”

“50, was it?” Justin asked with a smirk and I hid a laugh behind the back of my hand at the fiery glare Dad shot his way.

“Wow, you’re ancient,” JR gasped as Mom attempted to quiet her but most of the table laughed freely.

“I’m not,” Dad growled with a pointed look at Justin, “50. I still have time to sort my will. Of which none of you will be on if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

“I welcome 50,” Ben said as he grabbed Michael’s hand. “To get to this point, have found Michael and this family. To have the accomplishments I have, to have seen Hunter graduate with honors. 50 just means a future of even more possibilities.”

“That’s the spirit, Ben,” Adam said, still quieter than usual. “I don’t understand the apprehension people have with the inevitable. We can’t reverse aging, so why try?”

“Spoken like a man who hasn’t discovered the magic of Clé de Peau.” Dad said with a sip of his coffee.

We finished breakfast with the usual light squabbling and catching up. Turns out while Hunter had hoped to join us he was caught somewhere in South America with a girlfriend doing some kind of humanitarian work. And while Justin had stopped doing the artwork for Rage years ago,due to the difficulties in being in a different city, he was friends with the replacement that he had found for Michael, I guess someone he had met during his PIFA years. They talked a bit about Frank, I think his name was, and Michael was lamenting that Frank wanted to be involved a bit more in the storytelling aspect which Michael struggled with. And while Mom had asked about Dad’s business, he still didn’t say anything about the expansion, which I found odd. At one point Justin even asked if they were still looking at expanding, clearly opening for him, and Dad simply said they had a great year and were always looking for further endeavors.

I remembered their faux kiss against the side of the house, Dad’s possessive hand on Justin’s back and their mutual gazes of strong affection.

I almost felt bad for Adam, but, when Justin stood and took Adam’s hand in his own and Dad watched as they walked down the hall towards their makeshift room to get ready for the day, I only felt frustrated. If Dad did move to New York, what would that mean?

“Don’t tell me you’re still pining for him,” Ma was sighing as she helped Debbie clear the dishes. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“I _don’t_ have a boyfriend,” Dad corrected. “And who’s pining? All I ever wanted was for him to be happy and he is. Just because I can still appreciate that he has a great ass doesn’t mean I’m secretly daydreaming he’ll dump his actual boyfriend and come crawling back to me.” At Mom’s raised eyebrow he just snorted. “Even if he did, nothing has changed. He still has his life in New York, I still have mine in Pittsburgh. It wasn’t meant to be.” He stood up, brushing any stray crumbs off his pant-leg. “Now are we taking this monster to the park, or what?” JR jumped down from her seat, pushing her hair behind her shoulders with a smile.

The rest of the table seemed to shrug it off, and went their separate ways to clean up for the day.

I wanted to be able to spend more time with the family so had convinced my Moms that I could finish my homework Sunday so I joined the group at the park. Michael and Ben were keeping steady eyes on JR as she climbed a tree, while Ma and Debbie tucked their heads together over the newspaper. Mom was behind Ma, rubbing her shoulders as she rested her chin on top of her head, saying something that made all the women laugh.

_I’m sorry,_ read the text. _I like you as a friend._

I frowned, walking over to where Dad was stubbing out a cigarette on the rock where he sat, further away from the kids scampering about but close enough to get to quickly. He smiled, scooting over so I could sit next to him. “Don’t tell me you found out about the American public education system,” he teased, definitely referring to my inquiry two weeks ago by phone to move in with him at a time I was way over being grounded.

“No, it’s not that.” I just kind of looked at my phone some more, waiting for the message to change.

“Hey,” Justin said from behind us, and we both turned to see Justin with Adam not far behind. He used Brian’s shoulder to steady himself as he swung his legs over the earthy makeshift stoop, sitting at his other side.

“Hey yourself,” Dad said back, watching as Adam jumped down, a little less gracefully, and sat at our feet. “Where’d you two run off two?”

“Do you really care?” Adam said lightly, wrapping a hand around Justin’s ankle.

“Hot stud at 4’o clock tells me I have something more interesting I could attend to, and if you know a place, yes, I care.” We all looked to where a young dad was, who quickly glanced away at our stares and attended back to pushing his son on the swing.

“What if he’s not gay?” I asked and for some reason he just laughed at that. “What?”

“Ten dollars he’s not gay,” Adam said, and Justin gave a sigh as if to say _here we go again._

Dad snorted, “I don’t do charity cases.”

Just then my phone pinged again and I looked down to see the follow-up text from Clara.

_Gus, can I tell you something? You have to promise not to be mad._

“Girlfriend or trouble-maker,” Dad asked, clearly referring to Jason, who he said reminded him of himself when he was a teenager, if he had been an idiot or straight.

“Neither,” I sighed, unsure of how to respond and just typed back, _ok_. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey, you okay, Gus?” Justin, always the most receptive of the family, leaned forward to look at me from Dad’s side. “You seem upset.”

“It’s just. Okay, so, I have this friend, Clara.”

“Ah, I Love Lucy,” Dad said, and I really hoped he wouldn’t bring up that one night. “She’s cute. What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I argued. “I just told her that I liked her,” (and Justin obviously found this adorable because he put a hand on Dad’s knee and squeezed, looking up at him as if I were a baby who had taken its first steps), “and that I wanted to take her to the Winter’s Bash and she just told me she only wanted to be my friend.

“And? Fuck it. There are countless of other young Canucks waiting to fall under your spell,” Dad said, throwing an arm around me. Adam had looked up at Justin’s hand on Dad’s knee and Justin quickly removed his hand, smiling down at Adam and leaning slightly down to put a hand on his cheek before turning back to us. “So one girl doesn’t see what she’s missing. It’s her loss.”

“But she’s been my friend for years. And she dated that stupid jock before, who everyone knows is an asshole. I just think if she gave me a chance-“ I watched as the ellipsis on my phone appeared and disappeared.

“Now, Gus, just because you’re not an asshole doesn’t mean she should date you. There’s more that goes into relationships than being nice.” Justin said, and while usually I’d be upset he had a way of putting things so reasonably and warmly that I considered his words.

“And she obviously enjoys her time with you, otherwise you wouldn’t be friends,” Adam added. “You’re like her not straight gay friend,” he winked. “People want friends that they can be themselves around, not just girls. And if you’re that for her, she’s lucky to have you.”

I read her last text again. _You have to promise not to be mad._ I already wasn’t mad at her for rejecting me, not really. The only thing that’d make me mad would be if she decided to go out with Jason. I closed my eyes tightly. Please not that.

“Never be nice just to get something. People will only take advantage.” Dad said as he squeezed my shoulder. “Just be you. And if people don’t like it? Fuck them.”

Finally, Clara texted back and I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or to drown myself in Lake Ontario.

_I think I might be gay_.

_I think I might be gay._

She had sent the text twice by accident, but it felt more mocking in its presence.

I groaned, handing the phone over to Dad, who just chuckled before turning the screen to show Justin and Adam, who sighed sympathetically.

“Is it me,” I asked, burying my head in my hands. “Do I just scream, ‘ _look at me, I have two gay moms a gay dad and like a dozen gay uncles.’_ Why can’t I just be normal?”

“Watch it, asshole,” Dad said as swatted at my back, though it ended in a more comforting rub. “You are normal. So what if Lucy’s a lesbian? At least you know it’s not you.”

“And be grateful she felt she could tell you,” Adam said. “I didn’t come out until I was 23,” which I was a little surprised by. Judging by Dad turning to him, he must have been, too. “Even growing up in a liberal art scene it’s hard being black and queer,” he said with a shrug. “It’s about finding your people, your found family. My Dad eventually warmed up when he realized it’d be a selling point to connect to other gay artists, like Justin.”

“Explains the absolutely casual way he told me he had a gay son when we met,” Justin replied and they shared a warm look and laugh, and obviously there was more to the story Dad and I weren’t going to get. “It sucks being rejected,” Justin said, turning to me. “Whether it’s someone you’ve known for years,” I felt I saw Dad’s jaw clench, but I could’ve just been reading into it. “Or someone who doesn’t want to dance with you at a club. That’s why you have to gain confidence in yourself so other people can’t take that confidence away from you.”

“Not that I have a lot of experience with rejection, but I’ve had to turn away quite a few men in my life,” Dad started and I rolled my eyes. “And the ones I respect most are the ones who simply find the next best thing.” He stood up, patting my shoulder. “And believe me, Sonny Boy, for you? The best has yet to come. Never settle.”

I considered all their words, and texted Clara back.

_I’m not mad. I’m still your friend. Want to hang out after school Monday?_

~*~

Somehow, we made it to the school on time despite JR having to be practically tied to a chair to get her costume and makeup on. It took Michael, Ma and Mom bargaining with her two or three different ways before she pulled herself from Debbie’s lap, listening to all her stories of Michael at her age.

We dropped her off in the corridor with the drama teacher Mrs. Morrow, who had a short nose and wild grey hair. She tutted at JR as she led her by the hand to the door that led to the backstage.

Fortunately, it was a small production which meant there was still enough seating for us to all be close together. I sat between Dad and Justin, Mom and Ma behind me. I always appreciated the time I had with Dad, especially when he wasn’t glued to his work the whole time. Coincidentally, those times usually meant Justin would also be there.

Mrs. Morrow had stood at the front of the stage, explaining something was wrong with the lighting and the production would be delayed about 15-minutes or so. There was a collective groan and whisper in the audience, and a collection of dull lights sprouting as many just pulled out their iPhones or Samsungs in the interim.

I remembered that I had a pen in my pocket and pulled it out, doodling on the corner of the program they handed me as we had walked in. I had finished maybe twelve circles and something that resembled an ostrich when Justin saw what I was doing and grinned, leaning down to look at me.

“You didn’t tell me you were an artist,” he said cheerily, bending to try and see what I had done.

“Not an artist, not really,” I shrugged. “I just doodle.” I turned to him, Dad slouching in his seat so we could look at one another more easily. “Can you draw me something? It’d be cool to have a Justin Taylor original.”

Justin took my pamphlet from me, leaning over Dad as he ducked to avoid blocking his view of the stage where a few kids had scampered about in their costumes to twirl while we waited for the show to start. I watched as his golden hair, getting just long enough that strands brushed under his ear, tickled at Dad’s chin. A stage manager was running down the aisle as the auditorium continued to be cloaked in sheer boredom. A rogue child was singing his lines out of turn, and I heard the hushing behind the stage curtain as they continued their attempts to get a bunch of 10-year olds to behave.

I smiled and watched as Justin pulled a pen from his jacket pocket, neatly etching lines onto the margins of the pale yellow page of the program. But the angle was awkward and the light made it hard to really see.

“I can’t see,” I said eventually, and Justin glanced up questioningly at Dad before leaning over him again, this time using Dad’s knee as his anchor to draw where I could see. “Wow,” I said, as within moments I saw what looked like nonsense pen scratches started to form JR’s face shape and toothy grin.

Dad had been looking at something on his phone but when Justin turned slightly, elbow resting on Dad’s thigh as he turned the page just a bit to sketch out her dinosaur dress from the other night, he slid his phone into his pocket.

“That’s pretty good,” He said, and I saw his hand hover over Justin’s back before dropping it to the armrest, tapping an absent note in the quiet air. Debbie had gotten up to use the bathroom at this point since it was obvious the technical problems weren’t going away anytime soon.

“It’s just a sketch,” Justin said, but there was no way my doodling came even close to that. “Fuck,” he whispered, and suddenly his hand started twitching, the pen fluttering as it hit the ground. I remember Justin telling me once that this happened from time to time, but it was my first experience seeing it in actuality. I saw Adam turn to us on Justin’s other side, his own hands reaching out towards Justin, but Dad had beat him to it.

Dad had grasped Justin’s still shaking hand between his own, thumb tracing over the knuckles and the rest of his fingers pushing gently into his palm. “You okay,” he asked, oblivious to Adam patting Justin’s knee before looking away. Huh.

“Yeah, it’s,” Justin sighed, Dad obviously hitting a sore spot. “Ah, there, that’s better. Thanks, Brian.”

“Has it been happening more lately?” Dad asked as he continued to massage Justin’s hand.

“A bit,” Justin admitted quietly. “Not enough to ruin any art. Not yet.”

“It’s because you’re stressed as fuck between the condo and your art and you’re not allowing yourself to relax. I mean what kind of artist doesn’t even smoke weed every now and then?”

“The kind of artist who respects his boyfriend,” Justin replied, gently pulling his hand away from Dad. “The kind of artist who wants life to influence him, not narcotics.” Adam cleared his throat, one hand rubbing at Justin’s back, and I could tell there was more to things.

“How often is it happening?”

“Drop it, Brian,” Justin said under his breath, but it was said gently.

The lights on stage suddenly lit while the auditorium dimmed and the audience clapped. The show was just about to begin.

~*~

The thing about telling a story as an observer is well, you only see what you see.

Sometimes, even what you see is colored by your own perception and experiences.

  
Which is why, reader, we’ll step away from Gus for this interlude. Because it may be important to know for what Gus sees in the future parts of our story. Who am I? No one, really. Just a Storyteller.

The show went well, as far as kid productions go, and the family decided to go out for dinner and ice cream after. It was at a local hotel where they had a 50’s style diner on the first level and a bar on the rooftop. That way, the adults could have a nightcap and Gus and JR could have a treat and some soda after burgers and fries.

Gus sat in a booth with JR, Mel, Linds, Michael and Ben. Debbie sat with Brian, Justin and Adam in the booth behind them, and Brian opted out of the ice cream while Justin and Adam shared a small cup of chocolate chocolate-chip.

Debbie was leading most of the conversation, asking more about the new condo and city life and every now and then would try to imitate Adam’s accent with a laugh. Brian just leaned his head on his hand, waiting for them to finish so they could go up to the bar. Adam was talking about a gallery where he had recently done work, bragging about how Justin’s last exhibit while featuring numerous artists was the clear star of the show and how they had a hard time keeping up with the bidding.

Justin swirled the spoon in the cup, ice-cream mostly melted at that point, and missed Brian’s eye as he sucked the spoon in his mouth.

“I think I’m ready for bed,” Debbie said as she leaned back in her seat. “I don’t know what they put in their burgers here but it sure isn’t like Wednesdays Burger Special at the diner.”

“What, missing the sawdust and expired beef?” Brian said and returned Debbie’s sarcastic smile.

“It’s been a long weekend. I want to use the shower before everyone else uses the hot water,” she said as moved up from her seat. “Doesn’t look like the others will be ready anytime soon,

though.”

“I’ll go with you,” Adam said, also scooting out from his seat and wrapping his arm around hers as he stood. “I happen to be a master at hailing a cab. Justin, are you ready, then?”

“I thought we were going to get drinks soon?”

“Well don’t change your plans on my account,” Debbie said, looking between the trio of men. “I can get back by myself, it’s fine.”

“Nonsense,” Adam said, patting her hand. “I’m tired, too. But stay, babe. You don’t get to see your friends often enough. It’s fine.” He smiled at Debbie. “Shall we?”  
  
“And they say chivalry is dead,” Debbie sighed as they walked to the other booth to announce their departure.

It turned out the rest of the group also were going to leave soon which only left Brian and Justin up for drinks. Gus complained a bit, and JR made sure she had two kisses before she would let them leave. Mel and Linds exchanged knowing glances while Mel sighed deeply and sent Emmett a text that simply said, ‘ _I owe you $10_.’ Michael opened his mouth to say something but Ben tapped his shoulder and subtly shook his head.

“Let it go,” he mouthed, turning back to play Tic Tac Toe with JR on the child’s menu with a stubby brown crayon.

The bar was dimly lit by dull green and yellow 20’s style lamps. Quiet jazz music echoed into the room while men in business attire sipped at Manhattans and gin. Justin found a seat at the bar and pushed the chair next to him out for Brian, waving at the bartender shining glasses.

“I’m surprised you’re allowed to drink,” Brian said as he ordered his usual whiskey, double, neat. Justin just snorted, tipping his glass of some kind of house speciality cocktail against Brian’s before taking a long drink.

“It’s not that I’m not allowed to do things,” he reiterated. “It’s that Adam himself chooses not to do certain things so I agreed to do it with him. He never blatantly told me not to smoke but now that I’ve quit he just wants to make sure I don’t give up. And what’s wrong with clean living?”

“Nothing. But I’d rather have fun living a shorter life than live a longer life of boredom.”

“We have fun in other ways,” Justin said, finding his drink too sweet, so ignored Brian’s steady glare as he stole his drink. Brian just raised his hand to order another.

Brian laughed at that, shaking his head. “And how’s that? Going to galleries? Rubbing elbows with all the other modern art aficionados? Painting each other’s dicks?”

“He’s interested in more than art, Brian,” Justin chuckled lightly. “He’s a great tennis player, for example.”

“You play tennis,” Brian deadpanned. “What country club upstate do you do that at?”

“Why? Are you interested for when you move up?” Justin watched as Brian’s teasing stare melted away and he turned his gaze away, watching a fly land on the bar a few inches away then flutter away. “What? You thought you’d drop that bombshell on me and then we would just not talk about it? Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“I told you, nothing’s concrete. Besides, what’s there to talk about? When it happens, I find a place, I settle in and I get to business. And after work and on weekends, I play hard in all the new playgrounds of hot, sweaty men.”

“What’s there to talk about? Brian.” Justin, frustrated, reached out to turn Brian’s face to his, looking directly in his darkening eyes. “When I first moved we talked about this happening. We talked about how when you expanded and when I was financially dependent on my art that nothing else would be holding us back.”

“You’re forgetting a couple of important things, Sunshine. You have a boyfriend, who you just a home with, and I haven’t changed. I still fuck around and either I continue to, which I know you don’t want, or I stop for you and you’re pissed that I changed. There’s not a way that this works in our favor.” Brian finished off his drink, slamming it down. _Another_.

But Justin was never one to back down. “I was 22 when it happened, Brian. I’m 31 now. Things change. Priorities, circumstances, _we_ certainly have changed. But I never want you to change _for_ me, not when I fell in love with who you were. Are.” Justin swallowed here, sucking in his lip as his finger traced circles around the rim of his glass. “And yes, there’s Adam. He was there for me when I came to New York not knowing what the hell I was doing and needed a friend. He was there for me when you and I had broken things off permanently and he agreed to take things slow, at my pace, when we first started dating. He was there when…” His words suddenly dropped, and he took a drink from the whiskey he had taken, lips echoing over where Brian’s had been moments earlier.

“When? Don’t stop now, I’m at the edge of my seat,” Brian said sarcastically, but with an edge of seriousness. “Justin.”

“When I found out about Kyle,” Justin said finally. “I know, I know. He was nothing. Is nothing. Just a convenient fuck for those nights you don’t feel like mingling with the new crowd of young twinks who bring in their fag-hags and prefer to take unflattering selfies all night long rather than actually dancing and fucking. Did I get that right?”

Brian shrugged. “Close enough.”

“And even though I was dating Adam, God, Brian, it hurt. I thought it wouldn’t, because I wanted you to be okay and move on from us and I was also trying to move on and make a life by myself and I would just stay up asking myself if it all was what I really wanted.”

“And what’d you decide?”

“That as long as you were in my life, as long as you were happy and not changing your life on account of me, then a bit of pain would make it all worth it.” Justin smiled softly, moving his hand just slightly on the surface on the bar closer to Brian. “But I mean it, Brian. What happens next? What happens when we don’t have the distance anymore?” 

“What do you want to happen?” Brian moved his hand, too, their fingertips just touching, grazing. Justin licked his lips, pushing the limits and his fingers, feeling the rough edge of Brian’s nail that only he knew Brian sometimes chewed at when he was really nervous or stressed. But he didn’t respond immediately, and maybe he just didn’t know how to. And after a few moments of silence - Justin spoke.

“I want you and Kinnetik to strive. I want you to discover the magic of New York, to conquer every bar and club. And on those nights you just want to stay home? You’d have a hundred hot guys on Grindr at your disposal. Have you used Grindr in New York yet?”

“Usually too busy,” Brian shrugged, and although they both knew what exactly kept him too busy (usually Justin), neither said anything about it.

“I want you to do what you would’ve done had you gone to New York all those years ago,” Justin continued, nodding in appreciation when the bartender placed a new drink next to him. “And if you do all that, no, _when_ you do all that and Kinnetik becomes larger than Ogilvy-“

“You’ve done your research,” Brian chuckled.

“Well you’ve made it to enough of my shows to know the bad ones from good, it’s only fair I do my share of research into your area of business. Besides, they’re based in New York. They commissioned me for some work in their lobby.” Justin said with a smile.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” Brian asked with a rise of an eyebrow.

“As if you’d ask me to turn them down,” Justin said knowingly, and Brian threw back another drink, and Justin looked back at his, trying to remember whether he himself was on his second or third. His glass seemed fuller than it had been a moment ago, was it a new one?

“You’re fucking right I wouldn’t,” Brian scoffed. “But I hope you charged them out of their asses.”

“I didn’t. But I let my agent,” Justin replied with a smirk and Brian laughed. “I think I realized,” Justin said suddenly, watching behind Brian’s shoulder as a young women stood from her table and swayed in her spot, hips moving like the flap of a butterfly wing. “I realized that it’s always easier to create an image of what we are and why we don’t work when there’s distance between us.”

“Oh?” Brian returned, shoulders squaring as he waited for Justin to explain.

“It’s like, well, there’s this term in art, when you’re painting a landscape or shit that’s real. It’s aerial perspective. It’s when you trick the eyes into seeing something as further away by using softer tones, it’s less pronounced, hues of blue…”

“Why Professor Taylor, as interesting as I find this, I have Econ in ten minutes-“

“Shut up,” Justin said, though he smiled despite himself. “What I’m saying is it’s easier when I’m in New York and you’re wherever you are for the week because I can paint this idea that what we had is in the distance.That it isn’t any less beautiful or important to the full picture but if I can make it just a little blurry, dull all our memories then it won’t hurt as much to remember it.”

“It’s a nice metaphor,” Brian said, hands prickling like warm needlepoints as the effects of the alcohol drizzled over him. “But I’m not an artist, and I only see what’s factual, real. Authentic. No bullshit.”

“I’m not saying that it isn’t real, but that it’s harder to ignore when you’re closer. When there isn’t any distance I can’t color in any narrative.”

“This is all very interesting coming from someone who doesn’t even paint landscapes but I think you’ve avoided the question. What you want, what you don’t want. It’s up to you. But what is it that you want to happen?” Brian watched Justin with a steady gaze, watched as Justin busied himself with pushing his phone back and forth on the bar, not looking at it, not really. But almost as if he was biding time, stretching this time together.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I know that even after these last few years apart, after nearly ten years of me moving back to New York that I should have moved on years ago. And in some ways, I have. I don’t paint and think, would Brian like this? I don’t feel like if Adam never proposes that it means he doesn’t want to only be with me and I don’t feel like I have to propose to him to prove we’re valid but I also still don’t mind the idea of getting married, maybe, someday.” He looked up at Brian, watched as he took a drink when Justin brought up marriage. “But I know now that sometimes what we want can be different when there’s a we. And I want you to be wildly successful, free, happy. Brian… I have never stopped loving you.”

“And what if it’s this aerial perspective you love,” Brian asked, mouth dry. Turns out more alcohol didn’t help. “What if this forced perspective hasn’t made things easier for you but made you believe this false narrative you’ve painted for yourself?”

“Even after all this time, you really don’t believe someone can love you,” Justin said quietly, though more to himself. Brian looked away, tapping his finger on the glass. “Brian. I can’t be the person to prove this to you. When I told Gus earlier that he had to have the confidence in himself or someone else could take it away, I meant it. That’s part of what you showed me when we were together and what I really learned when you weren’t there to tell me. I want you to see beyond your success, beyond the fact you could walk out with any man in here and beyond your good looks-“

“You still think I’m good looking, huh?” Brian tried to say with a smirk, but Justin just continued.

“I want you to really see yourself and know that you are a good person. Because I want you to hear it even if I’m not here saying it to you.” Justin put his hand on Brian’s and smiled and in that moment, readers, Brian felt like he opened the door from a pitch-black room and stepped out onto a Miami sunrise.

“Hope this guy isn’t boring you to death,” came a voice next to Justin and they both turned to see a young man in a simple black suit, red-brown hair swept back in copious amounts of American Crew styling gel. Brian snorted behind his drink, pulling back from Justin. “I have a table at the corner if you’d like to join me and learn what a good time is?” The man said as he stepped closer to Justin.

“He’s not bothering me, thank you, but I’m not really interested. I have a boyfriend-“

“You’re kidding,” the man grunted, throwing Brian a look of disbelief. “Why are the cute ones always into older men?”

“First off - fuck you. Secondly? Fuck you,“ Brian sneered, looking the man before beginning to chuckle. “At least I can say I wasn’t losing my hairline by 25.”

“Brian,” Justin leapt to his feet, sensing the growing vitriol. “Hey. Ignore him,” he said, moving between Brian’s spread legs, hand hot on his cheek. He looked closely into hazel eyes, eyebrows rising just so, as if to say _play along_. “It doesn’t matter,” he said softly, but just loud enough for the stranger to hear. He slid his other hand from Brian’s knee up to his thigh, and Brian moved back, but pulled Justin back with him with a strong hand on his back.

“You sure you want to play this game,” he whispered, very much aware that by this point the man had thrown up his hands and already walked away. “I have nothing to lose,” Brian continued, pushing their foreheads together, feeling Justins’ warm breath on his lips and watching as blue eyes went from playful to dark and serious. “Be careful what you choose. You’re the one with the wife at home.”

“He’s not-“ Justin knew now they were drawing some attention, although the one he had successfully diverted from was long gone. “I love him,” he said, but didn’t pull away. He closed his eyes when Brian moved one hand to comb through his hair, not pushing or pulling, just softly petting, running strands between his fingers. “It’s not fair,” he said instead, opening his eyes, finding Brian’s own were wandering, going from his eyes to his mouth, nose, hair, neck.

“What isn’t, Sunshine? That you can’t have two people at once? You know I have never backed down from a threesome.”

“Stop. You know what I mean.”

Brian breathed a short laugh, but it was gentle, almost as gentle as the hand that moved from Justin’s hair to cup his cheek, thumb swiping over his ear. “Since when have you held back from saying what you want?”

  
“Since we have made this work,” Justin said, though whether it was to Brian or himself, reader, wasn’t clear. “God, Brian, we can’t throw away all the progress just because… Because,” he let out a shuddering breath as the hand at Justin’s waist dipped beneath his shirt and grazed the top of his jeans, still.

“Because you know the moment you kiss me it’s all over?” Brian pulled him closer yet, one hand rubbing hot circles on his skin and the other at the nape of his neck, moving until their faces were so close Justin could feel Brian’s breath with every word, smell the whiskey. “Because you know the moment you let go and let me bring you into the bathroom at the other side of this bar and suck your cock you’ll be selling that condo as fast as you bought it.”

“Brian,” Justin sighed, which wasn’t a denial, and his hand on Brian’s thigh spread. The alcohol was clouding his ability to make informed decisions and he knew it, but he licked his lips, moving his hips in such a fashion that Brian’s hand on his waist dipped to trace the outline of his ass, and it was hard to tell who was breathing heavier. “Brian,” he said again, this time against Brian’s lips, and then.

Justin’s phone buzzed at the top of the bar, but it was too late.

Brian growled before finally tugging Justin’s head the last inch between, capturing his lips in a collision of wet, strong, desperate and fast. Justin wrapped an arm around Brian’s shoulder as he changed their angle, past caring that they were by far the most interesting pair in the bar and thus captured a few wandering gazes. Justin sighed as he retraced the lips with his tongue that he had long past kissed but dreamed of so often.

Brian bit at his lip, tasting the liquor and ice-cream from earlier, pulling back just a fraction to change the tempo, slow things down, because as much as he missed this he didn’t want them to be kicked out of the bar. It wasn’t Babylon, after all.

But Justin wasn’t at that point of consciousness yet. He pushed past Brian’s lips to push their tongues together, hand tight on Brian’s shoulder as they familiarized themselves with the warmth and taste. Brian grunted, pulling Justin closer with a squeeze of the ass he hadn’t stopped admiring since he picked up him at the airport and sucked slowly at Justin’s tongue. And while Brian started kissing tricks again months after they broke things off he remembered why it was easy to quit in the first place: There was nothing like kissing Justin. He pushed his hand through Justin’s hair, holding on so tightly that if the building collapsed they would still be standing right there, stronger than any destruction.

Justin kissed like he knew it would end. His hand went from Brian’s thigh to his waist, shoulder, neck, hair, arm, back to his thigh. He felt his back arch as he couldn’t get close enough, holding in a moan when he felt those fingers he had been staring at all evening massage his scalp gently.

Brian’s head was feeling light between the mix of booze and _Justin Justin Justin_ when he heard the buzz against the counter once more. And whether it was reality that hit or the fact that this moment was simply a moment, but he pulled away, heart thumping heavily as he looked at Justin’s swollen, pink lips. It was only the anger that he knew who was calling Justin that kept him from latching onto those lips once more.

  
“Justin,” he grunted, then reached out to hand the phone to Justin. “I think you should answer that,” he said simply, as the phone said 2 Missed Calls and then began ringing again. “Your boyfriend must be getting worried.”

And then that weird mix of reality or stolen moment hit Justin too because he groaned, pulling away from Brian as he collapsed back into his chair. “Fuck,” he sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He took a deep breath, and answered. “Adam. Hi. I know, I know. I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

Brian rose his hand toward the bartender, who wandered back with pink cheeks and averted eye contact.

_Another._

  
~*~

I woke to the light under JR’s door flickering on and hushed voices. It was well after we all got home and so I knew it must have been Justin. I couldn’t make what the voices were saying, but I could tell they were down the hallway. I stole a glance towards JR on her bed, where she was still curled up and hugging her stuffed rabbit. She always slept harder than me.

I tiptoed to the door, creaking it open just so, where I could just make out some of the words.

“Sleep tight,” Dad was saying, and I pushed myself back as his footsteps came closer then, quieting as he passed. That was odd, I thought, unless he had dropped Justin off himself. The front door shut and he was gone.

“Have fun?” Adam asked, and while his musical tone said he was asking cheerfully, I couldn’t help but notice he sounded nervous. Maybe scared?

Justin said something back, but he was a bit more soft spoken, quiet. I heard his last few words though.

“We need to talk.”

And suddenly the light flipped off, their door shut, and I heard nothing else.

  
~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could write a 10,00 page essay on how the show failed to let Brian explore his childhood trauma and his numerous coping mechanisms and addictions (of which, hi, can be the same thing!) and how they could have done so so much with it! So basically this story is my attempt to show how both Brian and Justin are wonderfully flawed and real characters on their own outside of just being Brian/Justin, y'know? And it's those flaws and wonderful traits that make them great as individuals and as a couple. 
> 
> And while this was more Justin centric in a way the next chapter we'll follow Brian to Pittsburgh. And because this is a snapshot story and not a straight, linear, day one / day two story, yes Justin will be there too.


	4. Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gus spends Spring Break with Brian in Pittsburgh. Justin happens to be in town visiting his Mom. T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, did I change the Rating?

Before I tell you about my visit with Dad, I guess you want to know what happened with that talk between Justin and Adam. To be honest, I don’t know. By this point you know I have no problem sneaking around or listening through the walls. Unfortunately I learned my lesson on that a couple weeks ago when I thought my Moms were fighting and now I’m pretty sure I’ll need therapy for the next two centuries.

  
Anyway, I don’t know.

The next morning everything seemed normal and they even kissed after breakfast and Justin helped with Adam’s bags after his own as they loaded into the taxi headed to the airport.

So whatever it was, and maybe it was a good thing? Whatever it was, things seemed okay.

Well, until those few months later at my Dad’s.

But we’ll get there.

It was spring break and I had two weeks away from school. Initially Jason and I had planned on doing some swimming despite it always being too cold, even in spring, but then he had been caught smoking weed so was grounded and ruined both our vacations. So when I lamented to Mom she mentioned that Dad had that spare room (pretty much my room but he never called it that) and wouldn’t I like to spend some time in Pittsburgh?

And he must have recently obtained a pretty good client because he was in an abnormally good mood when I asked and agreed.

So that’s how I ended up at his swanky condo somewhere near to Liberty Ave but headed closer towards the business district so he could be close to work. And, oh, you’re probably thinking, ‘ _what happened to the Loft, Gus_?’ I knew about it, obviously, as with any of the stories about Dad the loft typically made an appearance. I asked him once, when I was around 10 or 11 and he had grumbled while screwing in a lightbulb of the lamp on the nightstand in the guest room I used when I visited.

“I sold it years ago,” he said, picking up one of my shirts from the ground and putting it in the laundry hamper. “I had made a decision to reorganize my priorities and it felt like the right thing at the time.”

“Was it not?” I asked, ignoring his pointed stare as he stepped on the plane ticket I had tossed on the ground earlier.

“Doesn’t matter. I lived there for another year while it stayed on the market and by the time Jennifer - you’ve met her, Justin’s mom - found a buyer the city decided it would be the great location for a new tech company’s headquarters so I was given six months to pack my shit and then watched it disappear like fucking Pompeii. Only my loft was slightly more iconic.” He bent over to pick up a piece of candy I had lost and _oh, that’s where it went_ … “Do me a favor and keep your shit above ground level,” he said with a wave of the candy before placing it on the counter near the lamp. “And get ready for dinner. Debbie will have my good ball if we’re late.”

Anyway, this new place he got was pretty nice and always made me feel like I was one of the cool kids when I visited. It encompassed the whole top floor of the building it was in and had floor to wall windows with some pretty cool views of the city. All hardwood floors, obviously, with his signature Italian furniture and features. I had noted each time I visited there seemed to be a new art piece or sculpture hidden in the wall bookshelf near the kitchen. Of course the paintings all seemed to bare the same scribbled JT on the corner but I never said anything about it. He introduced me to the doorman, or doorwoman, Genevieve, who replaced the last doorman Scott. She was prettyand petite and seemed little taken aback that he had a son. I’m guessing his numerous gentlemen visitors had something to do with it.

We walked in and he handed my duffle bag to me. “Want to put that in the guest room?” I nodded as I shouldered the bag, glancing over the foyer for any changes. I noticed his work desk was more central, closer to watch the cityscape I imagined. I put the bag on the bed in (my) room, smiling as I saw the artwork that now hung over the bed. It was another one of Justin’s pieces, of course, but one that was unique to his usual abstract work that he did for his living. It was JR, but one wouldn’t really know it by first glance. The various hues of browns, golds and amber swirled together almost like _Starry Night,_ her head mostly turned so you only had a glimpse of her profile. It was from the pen sketch he had done that night of her show. I knelt on the bed to get a closer look, to see how what looked like a black background was much more than that, the grey strokes of the paintbrush showing the depth of the stage and spotlight as she spun. JR might have been a pain in the ass and my annoying little sister but here he showed her living and it was beautiful.

“…can’t just be showing up like this,” came my Dad’s voice, breaking me from the haze of art. I crept down the hallway, into the main living area, where Dad had one hand on his hip and the other rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had his back turned to the man he was talking to, who I recognized as Kyle. Kyle was pretty average-height, just a bit taller than me but I was still growing. He had jet-black hair, lightly tanned skin, and angular, deep-set eyes that were almost as dark as his hair. He definitely worked out and his t-shirt was tight around his biceps and he didn’t seemed too bothered by Dad’s annoyed disposition.

“Oh, hey Gus,” he said with a short wave and a smile. “Veve let me up,” he said with a shrug. “She didn’t say anything about you having someone over.”

“Veve,” Dad questioned and it sounded like he had to spit it out. “Fine. I’ll have her fired.” He started walking towards the door, hand on Kyle’s back as he directed him. “And you can give her the news that it’s your fault. Since you’re obviously already close friends.”

“Okay. Okay, I get it. Don’t come over unannounced. I just thought you’d be interested in knowing who I ran into at the Market this morning.” He turned around to smile teasingly at Dad, who threw his hands down in defeat.

“In 2007 this man named Steve Jobs released this thing called the iPhone, which I know we both have, and on it you can send text messages or make phone calls…”

“A cute artist named Justin Taylor,” Kyle interrupted with a wink, hand on Dad’s shoulder when he didn’t say anything back right away. “And that’s why I wanted to come tell you in person, to see your face.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dad said, though it didn’t sound too venomous, while taking the hand off of his shoulder. “So you saw Justin. He’s probably up to see his Mom. What you expect me to do about it?”

Kyle shrugged, pulling his jean jacket from the stainless steel coat rack close by. “I figured I’d beat you to the chase, considering usually when you see him in Pittsburgh-“ Kyle paused, looking over at me then back at Dad. “Well, obviously since Gus is here, it won’t be the usual. Did you really not know he was coming to town?”

“Aren’t you leaving?” Dad replied, which told me that he didn’t know, and gave Kyle one of his lip-bite, eyebrows raised glares when Kyle simply laughed.

“Until your next bidding,” Kyle said lightly, before turning and exiting. We heard the quiet ding from the elevator just outside the door soon after.

Dad turned back to me, body seeming to relax completely. “Well? What do you say about Thai for lunch while I get some work done? You can order whatever movie you want from Pay-Per-View.” I followed him towards the kitchen where he pulled open a drawer and sorted through paper menus.

And sure, it was something I could easily do at home, except maybe with Jason or Clara with me. But I watched as Dad handed me the menu to choose what I wanted, grabbed the remote from the glass entertainment center and listened as he told me how it was some kind of limited release that he was able to get from a client or something and I knew this was exactly where I wanted to be.

At some point, within an hour of Guardians of the Galaxy and shortly after our food had arrived, he tapped my shoulder and handed me bamboo chopsticks while motioning over towards the dining table nearby. “You are not getting Pad Thai on my Lissoni sofa,” he said but made sure to turn up the TV before leading us back to the table.

He was a bit quiet while we ate, asking the usual questions like how school was and my grades, though he seemed a bit distracted throughout. “Did you know?” I asked finally, because while I knew both my Dad and Justin traveled a lot I knew they also met up more often than not when in the same city.

“No,” he answered, and I found it interesting that he didn’t have to ask me to clarify what I was asking. “But like I said, it doesn’t matter. I’m not the only person he knows in town. Now finish your food, we have places to be today.”

I nodded, but decided to text Justin from under the table. _R U really in Pitts? I am too._

It didn’t take him long to respond.

_Gus! I am. It’s my Mom’s birthday but hopefully I’ll see you around. I’ll be here for the next few days._

I glanced up to see if my Dad was paying attention, but it didn’t look like he was.

_Let me know when you’re free and I’ll ask Dad if we can meet up_ , I texted back. 

This time, no response.

~*~

The remainder of the day went pretty well, but I still hadn’t heard from Justin. I figured he was busy with his family and decided to wait until the next day to text him again just in case he forgot or didn’t see my message.

Dad and I spent the day touring around spots I had found on the internet that sounded interesting like the Monongahela Incline and the Andy Warhol museum. At first Dad had grumbled about doing touristy things but I knew he enjoyed spending time with me. Especially at the museum, where he took time with each piece, actually sitting at one point next to an elderly woman with round spectacles and a plaid purse. I knew he always liked nicer things in life; art, high-end fashion and furniture, old movies and pretentious books and expensive liquor.

I was beginning to appreciate art a bit more myself, but it was hard for me to decipher what was good or bad. I mean, if art was creation that came from the imagination of an artist, could it really be bad? I asked my Dad this and he laughed, pointing towards a piece that was red with creamy white chests at the forefront. The head and hands weren’t visible, but somehow I knew it wasn’t necessary.

“If you’re making art for anyone other than yourself, it’s not going to be good,” he said. “Warhol became iconic because he didn’t give a shit what other people thought of what he was doing. He just did it. Other artists tried to follow his path but you’ll never be as famous as the person who paved the path.”

“But isn’t your job to give people what they want?” I asked, and when he raised one eyebrow questioningly I continued. “All day you’re either in your office or on your phone listening to what your clients want then you do it for them. But you’re like, super successful, right?”

He gave a small nod, smiling down at me. “Sometimes I give them what they want. Mostly I give them what I know they need. All I do is deliver the product that I know will bring in the highest number of consumers and wait for the next client to come in. Most people don’t know what they want, Gus,” he said, hands twitching just a bit at his sides and I knew he needed a cigarette. “They just need to be told.”

~*~

It was around 2am when I woke, mouth dry and bladder full. I crept down the quiet hallway, figuring Dad was asleep since the lights were all turned off and I didn’t hear the usual clacking of the keyboard on his work computer. First toilet, then some water from the fridge.

I turned around the corner and nearly fell as I saw Dad was not at all in bed, but seemingly had fallen asleep on the couch. His head was tipped back, chestnut hair feather soft across his forehead. His eyes were closed and he had one arm stretched across the back of the sofa. I was about to leap across to him and scare him awake when I saw it. Well, saw and heard it.

His eyes furrowed and he bit his lip, a quiet whisper of a moan trickling from his lips. Almost like he was in pain, except his other shoulder moved just so, like he was rolling a ball on his legs. His hand that was across the couch moved and a jacket fell to the ground. It was a powder-blue windbreaker, and definitely didn’t belong to Dad as it wasn’t his style and looked too small to be his.

I felt myself frozen, grossed out that maybe he was rubbing one out in the middle of the night and I really did not want to ever see or hear something like that again but then towards the bottom of the couch I saw a foot nudge out, angled in such a way it was definitely not his own but belonging to someone else kneeling in front of him…

  
Ugh, gross, no. No, no, no. Really, Dad? You couldn’t go for the two weeks I was in town? I moved quietly back, back towards my room and deciding I’d just use the guest bathroom in the other direction and drink water from the tap. I tried to recite the alphabet in French, and backwards too just to be safe, anything to get the image out of my head.

And somehow, _somehow_ I managed to force myself to sleep.

I woke the next morning preparing myself to face Dad. I practiced my speech in front of the bathroom mirror, asking my reflection about boring things like advertising and Marlon Brando, anything to sway away from my memory away from Dad on the couch, and - okay, okay, _cent, quatre-vingt-dix-neuf, quatre-vingt-dix-huit…_

By the time I made it to the living room I saw Dad pouring a mug of coffee, hair already combed back and tie on. And Kyle was also sitting at the counter and ugh, I don’t know if I could look at either of them without feeling nauseous.

“Good Morning,” Kyle said first, grey hoodie pulled over his head. “Your Dad told me he has to do some work today so I thought I’d come over so we could hang out.”

  
I looked at my phone, scrolling to the text chain I had with Justin and sighed to myself when I saw he hadn’t responded yet. _Hey. Just seeing if you got my message_ , I wrote, hoping not to sound too desperate. I grabbed an empty mug, sighing as I sat beside Kyle. “Morning, Kyle. Dad.” I moved the mug closer to where Dad had placed the coffee carafe, and he chuckled as he filled my mug.  
  
“Since when did you start drinking coffee?” He asked as I accepted cream from Kyle and well, it was still coffee even it was mostly cream, right?

“For at least a year now, Dad, come on,” I answered with a drink and he said something like ‘of course,’ quietly. My phone pinged and I read the text. _Free this afternoon?_

Ugh, that’s right. Dad. Work. “Dad? How long do you have to be in the office?”

“Sorry, Gus, I have a meeting at 1. Earliest I’ll be out is 3. And that’s if, a very big if, Harold with HR can get the paperwork sorted for the new fucking office.” He took another long drink from his coffee before putting it down, and by the look in his eyes I knew he said something he didn’t mean to.

“New office? Where?” I know, I know. He still hadn’t said anything.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug. “If this falls through there won’t be a new office. Hence, having to get to the office.” He picked up his phone from the counter, walking around to pat my shoulder. “Sorry, Sonny-Boy. Duty calls. Be good for Kyle, okay?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I reminded him, not that he listened. He ruffled my hair, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch (I noted Kyle’s blue jacket was no longer on the ground. I shuddered.) and sliding it on.

He walked past Kyle and I while tucking his phone in his jacket pocket. “Thanks for coming over,” he said to Kyle, and it was kind of weird that this was the first time I heard him saying something that wasn’t along the lines of _go away_ to him. “Stop pouting, Gus, you’re getting too old for it.”

I drank a bit more of the coffee, frowning at the bitterness, then reached for the tray of sugar cubes and added a few. Well, maybe several. “So what are we going to do today,” I asked, spoon clinking on the glass as I stirred.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Kyle said as he pulled out his phone. “It’s spring break, right? What would make your friends really jealous to go out and do?”

“Actually hang out with my Dad,” I grumbled, which I know wasn’t fair. But Kyle clicked his tongue sympathetically, patting my back. I glanced over to his phone, seeing where his thumb pushed up as he went through his pictures. “Who’s that,” I asked, pointing at an older looking brunette woman who he had taken a selfie with, their cheeks pushed together.

“Oh,” he said, smiling down at the picture. “That’s my darling Mother, Carol.”

“Your Mom?” I looked down at the picture, noting her alabaster skin. “But she’s… Are you adopted?”

He laughed, “There’s probably more polite ways to ask but I get the confusion. No, I wasn’t adopted. My Mom was born in San Francisco but was raised here in Pittsburgh. My Dad is Korean but he died before I could really know him.” He had pulled the hood down by this point and scratched the back of his neck. “So trust me, I get the whole sucks not getting time with your Dad thing.”

“Is your family okay, with, you know…”

“My Halmeoni isn’t super crazy about me being gay but she loves me endlessly. She prays for me but she’ll always make sure my fridge is full and ask me to spend every Saturday with her. I think she mostly likes seeing my Dad in my face and it brings her comfort. And my Mom? She’s always been supportive.” He spun in the stool to face me completely, and okay, I still didn’t get the weird dynamic between him and my Dad but I knew he was handsome enough, even if I didn’t like guys in that way. “Why do you ask? Are you…?”

“No! No, definitely not,” I answered, and by his inquisitive expression I knew I probably spoke a bit too enthusiastically. “I mean, obviously with my Dad and Moms I get it, but with my Mom’s parents and Dad’s I sometimes feel I got left out of the grandparents thing. And like, I don’t really care, because if they don’t love my Mom and Dad for who they are then who needs them, you know?” I busied myself with texting Justin as I spoke. _Dad’s working all afternoon. So Kyle is babysitting._

“You’re a smart kid,” Kyle said, and I’m sure it was a compliment, but -

“I’m not a kid,” I corrected, taking a sip of my coffee to prove it.

He laughed, flipping his phone to sleep mode. “No, I suppose you’re not.”

_I can meet you at the Diner at 3_ , Justin had texted back. _Just let your Dad know and have Kyle drop you off._

_Deal._

So, okay, the morning wasn’t the worst I had.

Turns out Kyle can’t cook so I made us grilled cheese sandwiches and we watched Guardians of the Galaxy because it was probably my new favorite movie and Kyle hadn’t seen it yet.

“So what’s the deal with you and Dad?” I finally had worked up the courage to ask as Kyle played Candy Crush during the movie.

He looked up, and I hadn’t seen his surprised face before but I definitely wouldn’t forget it now. “You’re going have to be a little more specific,” he chuckled.

“I mean, I know you’re kind of friends otherwise he wouldn’t ask you to keep me company. But he always seems annoyed when you’re around. Do you, you know, like him?” If I could tell you the amount I hated being a teenager and stumbling over my words all the time.

“Sure, I like him,” Kyle said nonchalantly. “And sure, I’d consider him a friend. But I know he’ll never be a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking. Not everyone wants a relationship, you know.”

“But do you?”

He paused, seemingly mulling the question over. “Your Dad’s complicated,” he said carefully, and I rolled my eyes. I knew that. “And if I have a boyfriend, I want a boyfriend who likes me as much as I like him, you know? But if he did? Yeah, your Dad would be a prize. And I’m not even talking his looks or money. It’s just too bad he doesn’t see it.”

I remembered that talk Justin had with Dad those few months ago, when Justin told him it was easier for Dad to hear that he was an asshole rather than be loved.

And okay. Maybe it was time for things to change.

  
~*~

When Kyle dropped me off at the Diner I found Emmett at the table first, and I smiled as I scooted into the booth next to Emmett. While I didn’t get to Pittsburgh as often as I would have liked, I always made time to see him, Ted, Debbie, Michael and Ben. I really did find myself grateful for my strange, complicated but pretty cool family unit.

“Well hello there, handsome,” Emmett purred as he wrapped his long arms around my shoulders to give me a hug, kissing my cheek. I groaned, wiping at my skin but also felt that glimmer of warmth from the pure love that he had evoked.

“Hi Uncle Emmett,” I greeted, accepting the menu that was thrown my way by the waiter. Didn’t look like Debbie was working at the time.

“Oh honey, you’re getting way too tall,” he remarked as he looked me up and down in shock. “What are they feeding you up in the wilderness of Canada? And can I get some? I met this charming fellow through Grindr the other night but he’s a bit on the small scale, if you catch my drift.” And that’s what I loved about being around Emmett. He never talked to me like other adults did, like I was going to hear the word sex and run for the hills. Not that I liked hearing about it when affiliated with family, of course.

“Mom and Ma send their love,” I said instead, and he clasped his chest and started telling me how he so enjoyed seeing the pictures they posted of JR and I growing up and how he never really felt old until he saw us. He was easy and comfortable to talk to, and made sure I ordered extra bacon when I asked the server, whose name I learned was Devin, for a BLT.

“Girl’s gotta eat,” he said in a fluttery voice, batting his eyelashes as he grabbed one of my spare pieces of bacon and bit into it. “Now don’t tell me you wandered off all on your own from your Dad’s place?”

“Oh, no. Kyle dropped me off. I told Justin-“

“Oh, hi Teddie!” Emmett waved as Ted came sulking in, looking quite cold even between his layers of scarf, polo, undershirt, jacket… “Look who’s here!”

“Well, well, well. Brian’s little doppelgänger,” Ted said as he unwrapped his scarf and sat across from us. “I’d ask how you got here so fast from the office but your lack of a body attached to you confirms to me you’re not Brian.”

Emmett quirked an eyebrow up, asking exactly what I wanted to. “Oh? If it’s gossip you have, do tell.”

“Not that I think Gus will be thrilled to hear, but why not? On my way out Brian was parked in the garage and he wasn’t making any kind of move to leave. In fact he had a lap very full of somebody and they were going at it in his car. I must have walked out before the steam.”

“They were just fucking out in the open?” Emmett took another piece of my spare bacon, crunching in excitement for Ted’s story, if you could call it that.

Ted waved over to Devin, shaking his head at Emmett. “No, that’s the thing. They were just making out, though I guess from my angle it was hard to see everything in the light. But who knew even after 40 Brian Kinney would find satisfaction in sneaking around like a teenager.”

“And was this Homme du Jour another future client? We know he’s known for providing extra level customer satisfaction.” Emmett smiled at me sympathetically, but it wasn’t like I didn’t know all about my Dad’s shenanigans from talking to nearly anyone that knew him.

“Kyle,” I told Emmett with a bite of my sandwich. “Kyle said he was dropping off Dad’s laptop after he dropped me off because he left it at home.” At both Emmett and Ted’s look of surprise, I shrugged. “Dad doesn’t show any kind of interest when I’m around. This is probably his way to do his thing without me being there.” Neither looked particularly surprised, but at that moment Justin came in from the front door and I leapt to my feet. “Justin, over here!”

His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and lips chapped from the dry air. He walked over and gave me a hug, leaning down to kiss Emmett’s cheek before sitting down and I slid in after him, moving my plate closer to me but further from Emmett, to his disappointment. He smiled and waved to Ted.

“What are you guys up to?” He accepted the water from Devin who definitely winked at Justin and gave a sultry smile. Justin just thanked him for the water and didn’t seem to pay any attention. “Have you had a good visit so far, Gus?”

“It’s been okay,” I said, wiping mayo from the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “It’s always nice being here but Dad seems to have more work than usual.”

“There’s a lot happening,” Ted admitted. “But hopefully soon everything will fall into place and he’ll have time to make us all feel inferior while making special appearances at the clubs.”

“Oh honey, I don’t know how he still does it,” Emmett said with a sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, I can still dance with the best of them but my curfew warrants a full night of sleep so I can keep this flush, beautiful tight skin,” he said as he patted at his face.

Justin ordered a small Caesar salad when Devin fluttered back by and leaned back. “I thought about visiting the old stomping grounds,” he said. “But so many places are closed now or not what they used to be.”

“Or maybe the attention one gets when they’re well past legal age isn’t the same as the clamoring crowd of drooling admirers following a young, blond twink,” Ted mused, to Justin’s pointed glare.

“I highly doubt our gifted and handsome artiste has any issues there,” Emmett pointed, patting Justin’s hand before glancing over towards his other hand. “And what’s that?”

  
Justin looked down and smiled, holding out his right hand where the smallest bit of black ink was evident near his wrist and under his thumb. “I have a friend in Brooklyn who does tattoos,” he answered, and I took his hand in my own to turn it to see it more clearly. It was a long, thin pen, a point of ink at that end of the felt-point. If you weren’t directly looking at it it could be mistaken for an accidental line while he wrote or drew.

“I want a tattoo,” I said as I dropped his hand.

Justin laughed, tapping his fingers on the table. “As long as you don’t tell your Moms I’m the reason,” he said, and I shook my head.

“I mean, before that. I think it would be cool to get like a softball on my arm. Or like Groot here,” I said as I kicked my leg out pointing at my calf.

Ted looked perplexed. “Who or what is Groot?”

I began detailing the plot of the coolest Marvel movie ever to be made and the guys seemed mostly interested, except Ted held a finger up as Blake called and he stepped away to answer the phone. Emmett was working on a piece of cake he had ordered after eating the rest of my bacon and I handed Justin my phone at a point to show him my pictures. I had recently taken a photography class in school and thought it was kind of cool. I knew Dad liked photography but I couldn’t always handle his brutal honesty. Justin on the other hand, had a way of offering constructive criticism and always left me feeling good.

“This one’s great,” he said, motioning towards the close-up I took of Clara jumping from a rope into a lake. “You have a talent for capturing and embodying genuine spirit,” he said. “I think you have great vision, but just remember you can’t force the moment. Let it come naturally.” He continued scrolling, and I knew he was referring to the cutlery series I had edited in black and white.

We continued going over the pictures on each others phones, and at one point he even swore me and Emmett to secrecy as he showed us the rough bits of pieces he had been working on, still early in their development. I knew Emmett was more like me in that he didn’t really know the special art terms, but Justin seemed to blush and appreciate our compliments all the same.

Justin still had his scarf on and he adjusted it at one point, and I felt my own cheeks warm. There was an obvious bruise just below his ear, red and likely lip shaped. Emmett noticed too, I could tell from his eyes flickering from the phone to Justin, but he also kept quiet. Justin hadn’t really mentioned Adam at this point, just said he was doing good and was busy with work when Emmett had asked.

I guess it was a good thing to see that they were obviously doing okay.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Justin said as he stood up, coincidentally just as Ted had sat back down. I noticed he slipped his phone in his pocket as he left, and I wondered if maybe he didn’t trust me to not look at it while he was gone.

  
Ted covered his mouth, breathing. “Is it something I ate?”

“Bathroom,” I motioned with a laugh, and Ted made an ‘oh,’ gesture with his mouth before going back to drinking his glass of milk.

Emmett suddenly reached across the table and knocked on the table, bringing Ted’s attention back to us. “Teddie, Teddie, I have to tell you something if you promise not to say anything to Justin.”

“You know I haven’t kept a secret since Middle School,” Ted said sarcastically, but also nodded right after. “What’s going on?”

  
“Honey, I know you love Justin but trust me when I say it’s better you don’t say anything either,” Emmett said to me, and I nodded. I mean, he didn’t say I couldn’t tell Dad and I knew Dad would tell Justin - “Or your Dad.” Damn. Emmett clicked on his phone for a minute before turning the phone to us, and I felt my whole chest tighten.

There was Adam. Kissing some kind of famous actor in front of a theatre on some gossip website. I didn’t recognize the person but the headline made some cruel joke about being caught and shaving a beard, and I felt sick and angry.

“I mean, he must know,” Emmett was saying. “It’s everywhere. Maybe that’s why he came to Pittsburgh?”

“He said it was his Mom’s birthday,” I pointed out, but as usual, it came out weak and more questioning than as a statement. But it was at that moment Justin came back and I moved back out to let him back in his spot. “Do you have the rest of the afternoon free?” I asked him, and wasn’t sure if it was simply coincidental that his scarf seemed tighter on his neck than it did a few minutes ago. He was lucky artists got away with things like scarves indoors.

“I believe so. What’s up?”

“Maybe you can watch a movie and have dinner with Dad and I,” I said, trying not to sound too hopeful. If it was true that Adam had been caught cheating on him, maybe some company would be nice.

He smiled, seeming to think it over. “Only if your Dad’s okay with it,” he said, as if Dad would ever say no.

~*~

And that’s how Justin ended up making us dinner while Dad insisted on introducing me to _Rebel Without a Cause_ after he quickly vetoed me trying to introduce Justin as well to _Guardians of the Galaxy_.

“You’ll like it, Gus,” Justin said as he stirred some tomato sauce on the oven. “I didn’t know if I would either, when I first watched it with Brian.” Dad took that moment to dip a finger in the pot of homemade marinara and ignored Justin’s light laugh when he shook his hand from the pain of the heat.

“It’s time you started knowing the classics, now that you can appreciate nuance and subtext. I’ve had enough dancing aliens for a lifetime,” he said and I ignored the temptation to point out Starlord was only _half_ an alien.

And in that moment, things just seemed right. Justin asked Dad about work, me about school, talked about this buyer he recently befriended who was an old German woman named Petra who made him dry cookies and commissioned him for a painting of her dog, Rufus. I took my phone and decided to take a picture as Dad reached around Justin to steal the wooden spatula, taking over the repetitive motion of the stirring and I imagined it was his subtle way of relieving Justin’s hand. I was able to capture Justin smiling up at him, Dad’s body language languid and soft as he crowded Justin against the stove.

I looked at the picture, only doing light editing of the lighting and oh, okay. I started to think of what Justin said, of not forcing a moment. I looked back up to them where Justin was now draining the pasta and listening to Dad vent about the HR department, making small comments about remembering the tight rein Dad had on his workplace and they shared this weird smile where Dad pinched Justin’s side and they laughed.

“What’s going on with the condo,” Dad asked Justin and I snapped my attention to where Justin was cutting small pieces of garlic bread from the loaf.

“Well, Adam’s back in London a lot these days, and with his trust he doesn’t really rely on his own work as much as I do,” Justin said as he pulled the plates down from the cupboard. I began wondering how often he was over to be as familiar with Dad’s kitchen as he was. “So he agreed that I could pay him back in installments for his half of the down payment and he’d let me take over complete ownership.”

I frowned, thinking back to the picture Emmett showed us. “Um, what happened?” I asked and Justin looked up at me, only to close his eyes and curse under his breath.

“I didn’t plan on telling you this way. Adam and I broke up,” he said, and I felt my heart beat a bit faster, and I let my eyes wander quickly to where Dad had turned off the stove, seemingly distracted. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? I haven’t even told my Mom yet. It’s just you and your Dad.”

“You’re better off,” Dad said as he passed the pot to Justin to spoon the sauce over the pasta. “He was boring as fuck. And for a man with money at his disposal, had terrible fashion sense.”

I knew Dad was only trying to make Justin feel better, as I saw Dad and Adam get along on a few occasions, and I knew Dad enjoyed anyone who would verbally spar with him then immediately share drinks. But Justin seemed appreciative nonetheless, and lightly grinned as he finished serving the plates.

“Dinner’s done,” he announced, spinning around to grab the silverware but Dad had beat him to it, and he ended up with his hand on Dad’s chest and hand on his waist as he balanced himself. “Oh, sorry. Thanks,” he said, a little breathily, as he took the forks from Dad’s hand.

Dad pulled away first, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered towards Justin’s neck, and surprisingly, he didn’t say anything about the blemish.

We settled on the sofa after dinner, Dad at one end of the couch and Justin between us as I flung my legs on Justin’s lap and rested my head on the armrest. Justin patted my ankles, turning to whisper something in Dad’s ear and whatever it was, it made him laugh and he whispered something back.

“Friends don’t keep secrets,” I said petulantly, and Justin just tickled the bottom of my feet which made me kick a bit.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m your Dad and not your friend,” he smirked, leaning forward to grab his glass of whiskey and took a sip. Justin leaned, too, pushing the coaster closer to the edge of the table while he held my legs in place. Dad offered the glass to Justin who just shook his head and rested his head on Dad’s shoulder.

Someone’s phone buzzed, and considering I had my volume on I knew it wasn’t mine. The soft traffic noise outside the building was dim against the voices of James Dean and Natalie Wood, names Dad was making sure I knew by the time they appeared across the screen. I heard Dad quietly tapping at his phone, Justin saying something softly about things happening when they happened. They were being quiet, obviously letting me take the movie in, but I still craned my head just so, to see if I could hear more.

“It’s going to be delayed another month. Turns out Morrison didn’t think the permit was a priority,” Dad was saying angrily, but it was just a bit harder to make out Justin’s voice.

“A month after ten years is,” I didn’t quite catch the next bit, “will be okay,” was the last thing I heard, and Dad seemed to calm, placing his phone back on the table in front of us.

Somewhere after a pretty intense confrontational scene, I couldn’t ignore my bladder anymore. “I have to pee,” I announced, swinging my legs to the ground. Dad sighed as he paused the movie while Justin stretched his arms above his head.

I ran quickly to the bathroom, annoyed after I flushed the toilet and began washing my hands to find the soap dispenser empty. I looked under the sink to find some refill, careful not to spill any on the counter as I filled the container as the last thing I needed was to make more work for Dad’s cleaner, Jo.

By the time I made it out the living-room, I saw Justin holding his phone like he may a broken glass, just kind of looking at it like he didn’t believe what he was seeing. Dad was running his hand down the back of his neck, feather light touches as he didn’t really say anything, not right away. He brushed his hands through Justin’s hair, just a couple of times, petting at the side of his neck in small, steady strokes, just comforting.

“I’m such an idiot,” Justin said finally, tossing the phone on the counter. “Of course he’d change the agreement.”

“Fuck him. If he wants to play it that way, let me help,” Dad said. He threw up his free hand as Justin turned to look at him, “you can pay me back in the installments you were going to pay him. It wouldn’t be a handout.”

I took another step forward and they heard, Dad dropping his hand while Justin cleared his throat. “Hey Gus,” he said, though he sounded a bit more strained than usual. “Ready to finish the movie?”

And okay, Justin and Dad were right. I did like the movie. I was going through Wikipedia reading about Natalie Wood as Dad touched Justin’s elbow, leading him to the hallway. I heard Justin laugh and sigh as they came back out, shaking his head while Dad was smiling behind him.

“Would you like a lift,” Dad was asking, but I didn’t really hear anything else.

Because Justin was putting on his jacket and I felt my cheeks grow red hot really fast.

It was the powder-blue windbreaker.

Which meant…

“Uh, Dad? Did Kyle drop off your laptop at the office earlier?”

“Only thirty minutes after I really needed it,” Dad said shortly. “Thankfully I had a backup of the file I needed on my desktop. Cynthia texted that he was pretty embarrassed when he found out I had already left.”

I swallowed. “So, um, you didn’t see him after this morning?”

“No,” he said, narrowing his eyes toward me. “Why all the interest about my work and Kyle all of a sudden? Did something happen?”

“No, no,” I said, thinking of Dad’s hands on Justin’s neck earlier, how he had seemed to brush to the side, across the pink bruise.

Justin just zipped up his jacket, walking over to give me a hug and thank me for inviting him over. He then turned to Dad, their eyes meeting as he said goodbye and walked out the front door.

So what do you do when you know your Dad is keeping a secret - just not very well?  
  
~*~

Okay, Dear Reader.

I considered letting this part of our story end with Gus, with what he saw and heard and letting you fill in the blanks.

But I suppose I have a moment to let you in.

  
~*~

“I didn’t realize you were going to be in town,” Brian had said as he opened the door to let Justin in. “You usually call or text.”

Justin shook his head, bangs wet from the rain outside. “I could go back to the hotel,” he offered, but Brian just snorted and unzipped Justin’s blue windbreaker for him.

“Why you always insist on staying at 3-Star budget hotels when just one of your paintings can sell for enough for a few nights at the Fairmont is beyond me.” He led Justin to the living-room, opening the fridge and pulling out a water bottle. “Gus is here, by the way.”

“He is? I’d love to see him,” Justin said as he accepted the water. “Although I guess it’s a bit late.”

“You’re lucky I was up,” Brian said as he moved to sit on the sofa.

Justin just laughed, moving to sit next to Brian after draping his jacket on the back of the couch. “Once upon a time you’d just be getting ready to leave,” he said, pulling at the bottom of Brian’s long-sleeved black shirt. “Now you’ve traded in your sleeveless V-necks for loungewear.”

“This is Dolce & Gabbana, thank you very much. And I would be on my way out but Lindsay decided to tell Gus that he could spend his spring break with me.”

“You love Gus and you love spending time with him,” Justin pointed out, and Brian just shrugged. “Besides. Michael tells me you’re not going out as often these days.”

“How would he know? He retired permanently from anything fun to become the queer president of Suburbia. And between Ted only allowed inside clubs on Senior Citizen nights it’s only Emmett who ventures out into the land of the homo.”

“Mmm,” Justin just hummed, watching as Brian drank from his whiskey glass. “Who was the last trick you had”

“Did you really come over at 1 in the morning to ask about the last guy I fucked?”

“Just tell me,” Justin said, moving closer. “What did he look like? What’d you do?”

Brian paused, and Justin shivered as Brain draped an arm across the back of the couch. “He was someone I saw at the gym, three or four days ago. He was tall, dark hair, dimples on his cheek and ass. Fucked him in the shower.”

Justin nodded, one hand still fiddling with the bottom of Brian’s shirt. “Was he any good,” he asked quietly.

“He was fine.” Brian shrugged, watching Justin carefully as he drank from the water bottle, tiny drops escaping and running down his chin. And when he couldn’t resist anymore, he reached over to wipe the drop with his thumb, feeling the same soft skin that his thousand dollar a pop face cream couldn’t come close to achieving. “Justin. Why are you here?”

“I broke things off with Adam,” he said after a moment, leaning into Brian’s hand as Brian ran his hands through the still slightly damp, tangled strands. “It’s been a couple of months, so it’s not like I came right here,” he explained at Brian’s quirked eyebrow. “In fact it was that night in Toronto. After we made out in that slimy piano bar.”

“So you got bored and thought we’d pick things up where we left off?” It wasn’t said with much venom, not really, but the words were still said.

Justin sighed, meeting Brian’s hazel eyes with the strength he learned from years of knowing exactly how to deal with Brian Kinney. “I came over because I miss you,” he said. “I’ve spent more time jumping from relationship to relationship than actually being single and these last few months it’s been nice trying to learn who I am outside of someone else. But then Molly asked if I’d come up for Mom’s birthday and all I could think was how it would be nice to see my best friend.”

“And here I thought Daphne moved to Philly with her little boyfriend.” Justin sighed, looking towards the window where the rain ran down the windows like a map of jagged rivers, pattering a quiet percussion to this moment. Brian watched his silhouette, covering Justin’s hand with his own. “You okay?”

“Most days,” Justin said with a surprising amount of honesty. “I thought being on my own would be harder than it has been. Even when I first moved to New York and I missed you so fucking much I knew you were always a phone call or plane ride away. I was alone, but I wasn’t.”

Brian nodded, running his fingers across Justin’s, just listening. “You still did it all on your own. Despite your annoying tendency to dismiss any attempt at letting me help you, you did it.”

“I figured you had enough people you were always saving or supporting, and I needed to see for myself that I could do it without you.” Justin linked their hands together, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fabulous-“

“No,” Justin cupped Brian’s cheek in his hand, thumb swiping across his ear. “I need you to be honest with me.”

Brian just smiled gently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m lost without you? That sometimes it’s easier to bury myself in work because I won’t have to realize that simply fucking, snorting and drinking my problems away isn’t enough anymore?”

“That’s a start,” Justin replied, because despite Brian’s dry, sarcastic tone he knew there was truth there.

Brian reached for his glass, letting the familiar amber liquid burn down his throat like a warm embrace. “Yeah, well, it’s all bullshit.” He didn’t resist when Justin gently removed the glass from his hands, placing it back on the table.

“Let’s start with this,” Justin said softly. “I need you here with me in this moment,” he said before kissing Brian carefully, replacing the taste of whiskey with fresh, mint, _Justin_.

Brian returned the kiss, albeit short, small. “You had an idea of where you wanted this to go,” Brian said as they separated, smelling the same mouthwash Justin had used since before, before New York and before everything had shifted.

“I’ve always had an idea of what I wanted,” Justin said, pulling him into another kiss before Brian could reach out, reach out of habit to the drink once more. “And for the most part,” he continued as he pulled away, feeling Brian tumble just a bit as he tried to keep their lips together, “it’s come true.”

“You really want me to work for it tonight, don’t you, Sunshine?” Brian began peppering kisses to the side of Justin’s neck, nuzzling into his shoulder as Justin sighed. Somewhere beyond their solace on the couch, the ice-machine on the fridge shook.

“Mm, Brian, wait.” Justin pulled Brian away, shivering as the cool air contrasted the now wet skin Brian had left in his wake. “I need to say this first. We’ve already tried this fucking but living separately and you have your life and I have mine and when they coincide it’s amazing but when we’re apart it hurts really, really bad.” Brian didn’t say anything, just rolled his lip between his teeth so Justin continued. “So if this is going to happen, things are going to have to be different. We need to set some boundaries.”

“Because the rules worked so well in the past,” Brian said, but this time, didn’t break their eye-contact. Didn’t lift the drink.

Justin nodded in agreement, however, kissing the corner of Brian’s lips as if to say _I know_. “And that’s why I said boundaries, not rules. Because I want you to have them, too. I’ll start. I don’t want you to fuck other guys as a means to ignore what you’re feeling.” Brian started opening his mouth to interject but Justin quieted him with a finger to his lips. “I understand you’ll never be happy being completely monogamous and I wouldn’t ask you to do something that makes you feel controlled or not free to be who you are. But there’s a difference between needing a release because you see someone really hot and having a bad day so fucking just to fuck and forget.” Justin moved the hand from Brian’s mouth to trace the still wet lip with his thumb. “I just want you to talk to me.”

“If I move to New York, I can’t live in that place you and Adam bought together,” Brian said, which surprised Justin a bit as he watched Brian’s eyes close briefly, as if gaining the courage. “I know you worked hard for it and it’s your home but I can’t be that new Koket lamp you brought in because you threw out the shitty Target one.”

“Leave it to you to be a label queen even in analogies,” Justin laughed, but nodded. “Do you really want to live together?”

Brian probably considered another sarcastic remark, another remark about the expansion not being absolute. But there was something in Justin’s eyes and that bright fucking smile that resulted in his nickname and Brian couldn’t do anything but kiss him again, something slower, more concentrated.

It was the only answer Justin needed.

  
And yes, Reader, there was probably more to talk about. And if you could be a fly on the wall (and maybe that’s what I am - you could call me Flyerson, if you’d prefer) you would see not only two men who had a lot of issues to sort through and personal turmoils to tackle, but two men absolutely in a kind of love that is so deep and heavy that it grounds everything else.

Justin was the one to change the trajectory of the kiss, throwing his leg between Brian’s as he moved one hand to Brian’s shoulder and balanced himself in his lap, waiting for that moan of approval he knew was coming before he opened his mouth just so to allow the kiss to become heavier, hotter, that twinge of desperation that always clung to them like a bee to nectar.

“I don’t want to hold you back,” Brian said against Justin’s lips, one last attempt to allow Justin to walk away. To recognize that this was a mistake, that between Brian’s drinking and promiscuity that Justin would open the door to hurt and-

But Justin wasn’t moving. “Then,” kiss, “don’t,” kiss. “Hey,” Justin said, as he licked his bruising lips, running his hand under Brian’s shirt even as he pulled away. “Just be with me, okay?” And he moved forward again, lightly nipping Brian’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulling just so and that’s all it took.

Brian pushed his hands underneath Justin’s thighs, pulling him closer yet and then slid one hand under the waistband of his pants while burying the other in Justin’s hair, kissing harder when he heard Justin’s deep moan. “Shh,” he hushed as he pulled away. “Remember we’re not alone,” he said, and Justin chuckled quietly.

“Guess I’ll have to find something to shut me up,” he whispered, pulling away from Brian, barely an inch, and ran his hand from Brian’s knee up his thigh, licking his lips as his fingers fluttered across the growing bulge. “You should really let me take care of that,” he said, capturing Brian in another deep, wet kiss.

“Think you can you still handle it?” Brian teased, smirking as Justin scoffed, sliding off his lap to fall on his knees.

Justin traced Brian’s cock through the denim, heart hammering deep in his chest. “Only one way to find out,” he said as his right hand shook either from nerves or that damn injury he couldn’t really tell, but Brian moved his hand to cover Justin’s and tipped his chin up with his other.

  
“Justin,” he said, all teasing suddenly gone. “If you’re not ready-“

“No,” Justin replied, moving his hand away to pop the button off and slide the zipper down. He swallowed the growing saliva, holding back a whimper when he saw that true to character, Brian had forgone underwear that day. “Let me take care of you,” he said as began sliding Brian’s jeans down, grateful when Brian had moved up just so to make it easier.

Brian’s head fell back as Justin finally wrapped his hand around his cock, still a light touch, as if he were testing to see if it was real. Justin moved his other hand down to stroke his balls, including that plastic fucking thing Brian had to be reminded of every time he had to ensure the cancer hadn’t come back. Justin moved as if he had to memorize every inch, like he hadn’t known Brian’s dick more than he himself did.

And when Justin opened his mouth to feel the hot skin against his tongue, time just blurred into a single second and froze all at once. Brian bit his lip to quiet himself, one arm along the back of the couch and his other hand falling to bury itself into Justin’s hair when Justin wrapped his mouth around the head of Brian’s dick. When Justin moved his hands away to push lightly at his thighs, quickly sinking down and burying his nose in the pubes at the base of cock, he knew Brian wouldn’t last long. He sucked a bit tighter, hollowing his cheeks as he hummed, knowing how much Brian got off on the vibrations, and the tight pull on his hair told him that he was right.

“Ah,” Brian gasped as Justin flattened his tongue against a vein, fully bobbing his head up and down as he became more desperate to feel, taste Brian come inside his mouth. He felt some saliva drip from his lips and down his chin but neither cared. Brian pushed the hand that wasn’t tugging at Justin’s hair to stroke gently against the back of his neck in warning, and.

The ice-machine whirled again.

The rain had stopped at one point. The room was quiet, Brian’s heavy breathing and the wet suction sound of Justin’s mouth on his cock both quiet but so, so loud.

And then-

“Fuck,” Brian gasped as he held tight to Justin’s hair, back arching, Justin just holding on as he felt Brian spill onto his tongue, swallowing greedily.

Justin wiped his lips with his thumb, crawling back on Brian’s lap as he kissed him, feeling Brian’s heart slow under his palm. “Still think I can’t handle it,” he teased. He pulled away slightly when Brian ran his hand down Justin’s shoulder to his pants, fingers playing gently with the zipper. “Mm, not yet,” he said quietly, kissing him again.

“You don’t seem to sure about that,” Brian managed to say despite the tongue in his mouth, palm rough against Justin’s evident erection. “Although I could give you a tour if you feel like a change of environment.”

Justin crawled off Brian’s lap, holding his hand out to help Brain off the couch. “You lead the way,” he replied, voice rough like sandpaper.

And well, while we don’t have time to go through all the events of that late night and very early morning, I can tell you that by the time Justin had to force himself to leave just before the sun began to rise, Brian had already received the text from Ted telling him the new account had asked to meet later that afternoon to Brian’s great annoyance.

  
“They change their schedule every fucking day,” he lamented as he hid kisses on Justin’s neck and under his ear at the door. Between having to rearrange his day and maybe three hours of sleep between them, he was caught between great bliss and bubbling anger that he had to go back to reality. “It’s almost not worth their business.”

Justin pet at Brian’s hair, thinking momentarily of the jacket he had remembered to pull from the couch but forgot somewhere in Brian’s room. “You don’t mean that,” he said, all thoughts disappearing at a particularly rough bite at the nape of his neck. He pushed Brian away with a laugh, “stop,” he said, “I’m not a teenager anymore, Brian, I can’t go around with hickeys like one.”

“You still wanna see Gus? You can stay here, spend the day with him. That way I don’t have to figure out what to do with him.”

“Mm, you know I would love to. But I can’t. We can’t.” He wrapped his arms around Brian’s shoulders, ever the sensible one. “I don’t want to confuse him before we figure out what we want to be. I can see him later, but I should go before he wakes up.”

Brian sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Fine. I’ll text Kyle. But if you want to stop by the office later I can show you the new art department expansion. Maybe you can give an inspirational speech to the interns about succeeding after surviving me as a boss.”

“I seem to remember the extra benefits you gave me as a boss, so my experience is a little different. Besides,” Justin said as he rubbed Brian’s shoulders, “Ted will be there. The moment he sees me he’ll figure it out.”

“Do you always have to be so logical,” Brian complained as he sent the text to Kyle, telling him he’d make him coffee if he could keep Gus company.

Justin shimmied away, turning them around so he could be closer to the door. “One of us has to be. I’ll meet you after your meeting, okay? Maybe in the garage, away from wandering eyes.”

“And people say I’m the one with the affinity for public sex,” Brian said as he kissed Justin one final time, finally letting him out the door. “I’ll see you later?”

“Later.”

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thank you as always for reading! I imagine maybe only one or two more parts to this story left. And once more, I'm a firm believer Brian has an addictive personality and it's always been so frustrating to me that the whole show introduced all the traumas Brian had and Brian even admitted to Ted that he coped with drinking, drugs, sex and lost everything due to it and then the show just. did. nothing.


	5. Phoebe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York happens and some old wounds are opened up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Kudos and comments give me the validation in my life that I'm not a complete failure.

There’s not a lot more to tell about my trip to Pittsburgh.

  
Except for the fact that my Dad finally told his friends about New York. In the most casual way he could, of course.

We were having lunch on the weekend with the gang at Uncle Mike and Uncle Ben’s. I Facetimed JR with Uncle Mike and she complained that I always got to do the fun things but managed to introduce her Dad to all of her toy horses of which there were no less than six-hundred and nine. I had managed to slip away while he jotted down their names on one side of a notepad and a short description of them on the other and promised _yes, I’m sure we can fit Princess Yoyo into the next issue of Rage._

I had watched Dad go through at least four wardrobe changes at home before finally settling on a simple long-sleeved black shirt that looked like all his other long-sleeved black shirts with at least the top two buttons unbuttoned. I pretended not to pay attention to Justin as he walked in the front door and kissed Ben on the cheek with a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and at the corner of my eye I knew Dad was pretending, too. I stood next to Dad at the table where all the salad, wrap and sandwich setting was splayed out, flopping a slice of rye and a generous top of mayonnaise on top.

“Justin looks nice,” I said as casually as I could, but Dad didn’t really look up from his salad that had no dressing or cheese or anything good.

“Oh, is he here?” His nodded a greeting at Justin as Justin came into the room, and I rolled my eyes. “Hold this,” he asked me as he handed me my plate. “Have to piss.” And he walked toward where Justin was looking at something on Emmett’s phone and sharing a laugh. Dad slid a hand on Justin’s back, pausing to say something to the both of them before continuing his path to the bathroom. Justin had watched him for a moment, with his eyes only, before flickering back to Emmett and continuing their conversation.

I walked around the kitchen into the living-room in a steady pace, noticing on my way around that Uncle Mike was still on my phone with JR, this time joined by Debbie who had snagged the pen and was reading through his notes with a hyper-focused studious expression. Ben was putting some fresh pan-seared tofu on the food table and Ted and Blake were chatting to Emmett where Justin was no longer.

Bingo.

The nice thing about being permanently at the Kids Table is it was easy to get by unnoticed.

I tiptoed towards the hallway that led to the bathroom and noticed the guest bedroom was creaked open and the light was turned on. I heard Justin’s quiet laugh and the annoyingly familiar sound of a kiss.

“You must be busy at work,” Justin was saying, “you haven’t shaved in a couple of days.”

“A lot of things have been keeping me busy,” Dad said back, “some hot art-type blond, for starters.”

“Mm, must suck.” Kiss.

“Sometimes he does.”

  
Ew. Okay, It was time to get the upper-hand.

“Okay, here’s what I want,” I said as I pushed open the door. Justin jerked away from where Dad had him trapped against the wall, and Dad just ran both hands down his face in obvious frustration. “The new Wolfenstein game, but I’ll need the online pass, too.”

“Gus, the fuck are you talking about?” Dad sounded tired and strained and I almost felt bad but why did they think they could keep this a secret from me? Justin was moving back to Dad, rubbing one shoulder as they both turned to face me.

“If you want me to keep you two a secret, I want the new Wolfenstein game.” And okay, it was harder when they were both facing me and instead of breaking down they both just laughed. Really?

Justin smiled at me, shaking his head. “Gus, we know you won’t tell anyone,” he said pretty easily, confident.

“And I don’t know what the fuck Wolf in Steam is, but you can ask your Moms because you’re certainly not getting it from me.” Dad said as he wrapped one arm around Justin’s shoulders. “And if you plan on blackmailing someone, let them make the first offer otherwise you’ll lowball yourself.”

“So what? Are you two back together?”

  
They exchanged a look and Justin was the first to speak. “This is why we aren’t saying anything, Gus. It’s more complicated than a simple yes or no. There are a lot of things to figure out first.”

“Besides, it’s nobody’s business but our own,” Dad added. “And that includes snoopy teenagers.”

I rolled my eyes. They were so lame. “Is it because you live in New York,” I pointed at Justin, “and you live here, so you can’t figure it out?”

“Fuck it,” Dad didn’t really answer, but turned to cup Justin’s face in his palms and gave him a short, sounding kiss before grabbing the back of my shirt on his way out. “Let’s go, Sonny-Boy.You were supposed to be holding my food.”

  
We ended up back around the food table and no-one seemed to notice Justin joining just a couple minutes after. Debbie had made a move to slap his cheek affectionately, remarking how he still looked almost as young as me and honestly I thinks she was just saying I looked like an adult and I puffed out my chest a bit at that.

“Kinnetik’s opening a new office in New York,” Dad said suddenly over a bite of celery stick. Ted spluttered over his water, saying something about not realizing they were making the announcement already and Michael just about dropped his plate of food. “Everything will be final by next Wednesday.”

There was some short silence before Ben reached out to pat Dad’s shoulder. “Congratulations,” he said, “I know it’s a move you’ve been working on for quite some time.”

“And who do you plan on sending to New York to run your baby,” Emmett asked behind his sip of mimosa, but asked in such a way that I think he already knew the answer.

“Me,” Dad confirmed, and while everyone made their moves to offer their congratulations I noticed Justin’s hug was a little longer, a little softer. Justin had turned his head to hide a small kiss under his ear and Emmett winked at me when he noticed me looking.

“You’ll be the first person to move to New York for the Sunshine,” he sang and Dad smiled sarcastically back.

“Speaking of Sunshine in New York, how’s living in sin with Adam, sweetie?” Debbie cracked and had turned to Justin and oh yeah, I forgot nobody knew that they had broken up.

“It’s great,” he said with a pretty convincing smile. “He’s working a lot lately so he’s sorry he couldn’t make it up and sends his love.”

“He’s always been a sweetheart,” Debbie was saying and I rolled my eyes when I saw Dad accept a glass of water from Justin, their hands touching longer than necessary and if they really wanted to keep things quiet they really weren’t that good at it. Adults weren’t as smart as they liked to pretend to be, I guess.

Michael was pouting a bit in the corner and moved to hug Brian again. “I can’t believe you’ll be moving to New York,” he said a bit sadly. “I knew you always wanted to even after high school but now that it’s actually happening…”

“It will be a few months to find a place,” Dad said as he patted his back. “But I’ll fully expect the largest going away party that Gay Pittsburgh has ever seen.”

And I knew that’s exactly what he would get.  
  
~*~

“And compared to the other larger firms who have had an understanding of advertising in Manhattan for decades, why should we consider your company?” The woman had come in unexpectedly, and I had known she must have been important by the way Dad’s right-hand (wo)man Cynthia even fidgeted with her hands at her sides which I had never seen her do before.

She had a short, stubby nose and blonde-grey hair that she wore in a wavy bob with a red pantsuit that made her look like a mix between a Power Ranger and Anna Wintour. (What? More than three-quarters of my family are gay, of course I know Anna Wintour.) Apparently she was with some huge media corporation where I had to sign something that said I wouldn’t say anything about it to even be in the room but you won’t go and tell on me, right?

“Don’t rely on me telling you, rely on my work,” Dad said casually, waving off one of the construction workers who had been walking around the large empty conference room placing black tape on various parts of the wall. He had a stack of manila folders that were propped on a table that was definitely not a permanent fixture, and even though he had his usual confident smile and tone I could tell her arriving before the office was even opened had him a bit flustered.

The woman, I think Dad called her Ms. McCarthy, simply shook her head. “I would love to do that, Mr. Kinney, but it appears you don’t have any work that I can see.”

“I don’t want to waste your time. Just tell me when you’re free and I can show you what we have prepared at your favorite place in the city. Obviously I’m new to the city and haven’t had a chance to find my own preferences-“

“I’m free now, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” Her heels clicked as she paced around the floor, just stepping over some long wires that the electricians had placed just a couple hours earlier, finagling with some fancy looking bulbs on the ceiling. “But I’m not completely unreasonable and realize there can be delays when opening new offices. My assistant did let me know you had asked for a push in our meeting but I like to see what the people I work with are like on a whim.”

Behind her Cynthia was on her knees at this point, laptop open as she clicked through file after file, opening various Excel sheets and PowerPoints before a familiar logo popped up. “Ms. McCarthy,” she said as she propped herself up with her feet, turning the laptop towards her. “If you’d like I can show you what we have. I’d be honored to show you around the offices so you can have an idea what your future with Kinnetik would look like.”

Ms. McCarthy looked at Cynthia from head to toe, and I wouldn’t believe that she could smile except she suddenly did. “There’s a great Italian place not far from here. Let’s walk and we can have dinner this Friday.”

They walked away and were probably only just down the hallway when Dad started pacing back and forth, hand tight in his hair and I knew he was only holding back from throwing something across the room because I was there.

It had been four months after Dad had announced the expansion and two months after the office was supposed to finished and that meant two months after he moved to New York officially.

I closed out of my pretty frustrating game of Flappy Bird and sent a quick text to Justin.

_911\. Some bznss lady came 2 office. Dad not happy._

It didn’t take long before Dad’s phone started ringing.

“Hey. No, I’m free to talk.” His eyes glanced over towards where I was sitting on one of the paint-splattered chairs that was against the plastic sheet draped down the wall. “Oh, he did, huh?” Dad walked over and ruffled my hair (I really hated it when he did that) while his shoulders seem to relax almost immediately.

Cynthia walked in a few minutes later after I had drawn my attention back to my game, letting Dad finish talking to his not-boyfriend-but-boyfriend that he had already just talked to this morning, but whatever.

“Friday, 6pm. I’ll text you the address. Bring Justin,” she said with a wide smile as she brushed some dust off her closed laptop. “Oh and I’ll need an increase in my corporate card for wardrobe. Upgraded city means upgraded outfits to impress. I know you’ll understand.”

“Your husband can’t afford it?” Dad asked sarcastically.

“You and I know both know I support him, not the other way around,” Cynthia said with a laugh. “Besides, he’s already pouting that I moved him from all his friends and that he had to find a decent Steelers bar.”

“That means nothing to me,” Dad sounded a bit exasperated. “And wait, why am I bringing Justin?”

“Because she saw the FedEx woman bring in Justin’s art for your office and when I told her your partner was the genius behind it she practically creamed her panties right there. Thankfully Charlie,” Dad made a confused face, “the head janitor?” Cynthia rolled her eyes when Dad shrugged. “Thankfully Charlie had a mop at the ready.” _  
  
_“There’s only one problem. Justin’s not my partner.” Oh, did I forget to tell you? Yeah, Dad and Justin were still pulling this whole not telling anyone they were shacking it up while probably having too much sex for old people and it was beyond stupid at this point.

Cynthia also didn’t buy it. “Uh-huh,” she said dismissively while putting her laptop back down on the worktable and folding her arms across her chest. “You want the account, don’t you? Go to the dinner, bring Justin, stop pretending for one night that you aren’t back together-“ she ignored his mouth opening in protest, “and bring us the account larger than anything we ever could have imagined before we even get the chance to cut the ribbon.”

“I can still fire you,” Dad said, but Cynthia just turned on her heel and walked back towards the exit.

“Friday. 6pm. Be there,” she called out as she left.

~*~

I was visiting for summer break this time and had been excited to explore New York. Except turns out establishing a company in a new place can be complicated and everything had been a bit delayed. Dad had a temporary apartment he had been renting while Justin stayed with him and had been working on selling the condo he had bought with Adam.

After the whole fiasco at Dad’s office we got back to his place and he had hung his work jacket in the closet near the entrance before collapsing on a chaise with a heavy sigh. He ran his hands up and down his face and I sat on the other side of the room on the couch.

“I can make some of that green stuff you like,” I volunteered. Justin had shown me how to use the fancy juicer the night I had arrived and it had been fun experimenting with the different fruits and vegetables we had got at the Greenmarket. Turns out I hated ginger no matter what you prepared it with.

He only sighed again, but this time moved up and walked towards the kitchen and I followed him. “I need something a little stronger,” he said as he grabbed a whiskey bottle from the bar cart along the way. “You hungry?” He started opening some cabinets and pulled out some bread and butter from the fridge. I knew Justin was to thank for having food that didn’t come in a styrofoam box.

“I got it,” I said as I pulled out the toaster from below the counter. I know Dad hated any crumbs left behind so I was pretty meticulous in set-up and cleaning. He poured his whiskey as I pulled down a plate and put the toast in, setting it to the nearly the highest setting. I liked it pretty dark.

As often as I saw him drink, I don’t think I remember a time I saw him drunk, I realized as he downed his first glass and began pouring his second.

“Bad day at the office?” Justin came in at that time, sliding his messenger bag off his shoulder. “Hey, Gus.” He patted my shoulder before gently pulling the glass from Dad’s hand and leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss Dad in greeting. Dad let Justin put down the glass before running his hand on the back of Justin’s head, kissing him once more but mostly just _looking_.

“Cynthia charmed her, thankfully. Fucking foreman promised to at least have my office completed by today and he waits until I come in to say that there’s a problem with the lights. The punch list looked about as long as my little back book.”

Justin laughed, pulling away from Dad when my toast popped to take it out for me. “So what’s the verdict?”

“You’re coming to dinner with me Friday. Turns out McCarthy is an admirer of the fine arts and she saw your mixed media piece you did for my office and now you have a new fan.”

I watched as Dad actually dumped the rest of his whiskey from his glass down the sink, _odd_ , and instead began filling a glass with some filtered water from the sink. ‘ _Only 25% of the 35 billion bottles that are thrown away in the US each year are actually recycled_ ,’ Justin had said when he installed it one night. ‘ _And the amount that ends up in our ocean is even more devastating. We need to start making some changes.’_ And while Dad just took off the cap from a bottle of water he pulled from the fridge with an exaggerated flourish, I noticed he hadn’t bought more bottles after that.

“Okay. But wouldn’t she think it’s strange for you to bring this independent artist with you to dinner?” Justin finished buttering my toast, but not before taking a bite from the corner and winking at me when he handed me the plate.

Dad clicked his tongue, shrugging. “Cynthia told her it was done by my non-work partner.”

“Wait. So she’s expecting your _partner_ partner,” Justin clarified, and when Dad nodded Justin leaned back against the counter, arms folding. “So you’re okay having me as your artist trophy wife for a night to get an account but you’re not ready to even tell our friends that we’re back together?”

“It was your idea to keep things quiet. Not mine,” Dad pointed out. “I just agreed that it was nobody’s business what we are. And it’s not to just get the account, it’s because you’re a fucking genius and it could be an opportunity for you, too.”

Justin listened carefully, not moving when Dad crowded against him with his hands on either side of Justin’s waist on the countertop. “I don’t know if I’m ready for people’s judgement,” he admitted quietly, moving a hand to rest around Dad’s shoulder. “You know how they acted when I finally told them Adam and I broke up. Talking about how I needed to be try being single for a while, learn who I was outside of a relationship.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Dad said simply, and Justin smiled pretty widely.

“And what if I told you I really wasn’t ready yet, and that I’d do this dinner for you, for _us_ , but I want to keep what we have between these walls?” Justin was playing with the hair at the back of Dad’s neck, eyes flickering between Dad’s eyes and lips.

I took a bite from my toast. I was used to them forgetting I was there.

“I’d say okay and take you to dinner. And when they ask for the 45th time whether we were back together, I’d say no.” He leaned down to kiss Justin again but Justin moved back, shaking his head.

“But what do _you_ want?”

Dad was quiet initially, just watching Justin. He was successful this time in kissing Justin, Justin’s hands on his back as he returned it. “I just want you,” Dad said when he pulled away, and I held back a groan at the cheesiness. “And I want you to be happy. Whether that means being open or keeping it between us - doesn’t matter. And I want the account.”

“Of course,” Justin said with a laugh, brushing some hair behind Dad’s ear. “I want you to have it, too. And I did want to be an animator when I was younger, it would be good to have that type of connection, if I felt like a change in work scenery.”

“Any other stipulations?”Dad asked, sliding his hands from the counter to the back pockets of Justin’s pants.

“Just one thing…” Justin used the hand on Dad’s head to pull him down slightly, whispering something in his ear.

Dad smirked at whatever he had said. “Getting greedy now, are we? Last week wasn’t enough?”

“Never enough,” Justin said and Dad did this weird growl thing before pulling Justin back in for a rougher, deeper kiss. 

“Okay, guys, I kind of don’t want to puke today,” I called to them and while Dad I knew didn’t care Justin smiled while pulling himself away.

“Sorry, Gus,” he said before sitting next to me. “So. Your Mom mentioned someone named Asha…”

I blushed and felt half-tempted to throw my toast across the kitchen at Dad when he chuckled. So okay, I moved on from Clara. And Asha was this new girl at school who had pretty braids and eyes so dark they reminded me of a sparkling night sky and one day she came to study with me after class for some dumb group assignment and Ma had decided that was the time for _the talk_ and wait, why am I telling you this?

“She’s just a friend. And Ma and Mom think I like her…”

“Because of the sock incident?” Dad asked through a bite of an apple and okay I’m _definitely_ not telling you about that. Why adults wanted to kill teenagers from embarrassment I’ll never know.

“I took some photos of her for the community photography contest,” I said to Justin instead to change the subject, and Justin’s smile told me that it had worked. “I really think she could be a model. She made it pretty easy.” I turned my phone over to Justin and he flipped through the pictures.

“These are great, Gus.” He turned over to motion to Dad to come over and Dad put a hand on Justin’s shoulder as he looked with him. I hadn’t really shown him yet, so I was a bit nervous. Like I said earlier, Justin was an easier audience.

Dad put his hand on Justin’s to stop at one particular photo, where I had caught Asha laying on the grass with her hands on her cheeks and braids splayed around her head like a halo. She had a peaceful expression on her face, gold eyeshadow contrasting the bright grass and her dark skin. I had taken it by standing over her shoulders and remembered after I had taken the picture she pulled at my legs and we fell into a pile of tickles and laughter and okay, okay, maybe I did like her.

“These are pretty damn good, Sonny-Boy,” Dad said which brought me back to the present. “When’s the contest?”

“Um, well I submitted a few last week so they’ll let me know by the end of this month.”

“They’re idiots if you aren’t selected,” Dad scoffed, and I didn’t notice that they were still going through past the photos I took of our photoshoot until Justin froze and pinched the screen to zoom in on the photo I had taken of them those couple months ago.

“Gus, when did you take this?” Justin flipped the phone toward me but Dad took it from him and started doing something with the phone, I couldn’t really tell.

“When I was visiting Pittsburgh during spring break,” I said and heard Dad’s phone ding. “It’s when you made dinner and I don’t know, it just seemed like a good time.”

Later that night, after Dad and Justin let me go see a movie while they went to the gym, I helped use Dad’s phone to call an Uber from our meeting point because Dad refused to take the subway even after all my begging to get the true New York experience.

I smiled to myself when I realized he had sent the picture to himself so he could change it to his lock-screen background.

~*~

The thing I didn’t get about upscale restaurants was that it seemed there were two universal truths. One: The prices were never listed on the ultra-small menus. Two: The plates were tiny, even by non-American standards.

Of course I guess I didn’t really have to worry about this, since I wasn’t paying and it was for Dad’s work and all. Justin also tried explaining it was about the _experience_ and that the presentation was an art form of in itself and blah blah blah. I just wanted some pizza.

Turns out the Ms. McCarthy lady not only was a fan of art but of a good family man so when Cynthia found out I would still be here on the night of the dinner but would be chilling out at the apartment she insisted I join. 

So here we were,sitting at a table in a booth that had this dark brown leather that squeaked every time I moved and that had about three candles too many and once again I was in a scratchy tie I hated.

“Ah, Mr. Kinney,” came the deep voice by the table and Dad and Justin stood suddenly to greet Ms. McCarthy so I thought I should stand, too. “And this must be your incredibly talented partner Mr. Taylor,” she greeted as she turned her cheek to do that air kiss thing adults do when they’re being all pretentious. Or European.“And this must be the son who is up from Toronto.”

“Gus,” I said as I stuck out my hand and she laughed and accepted the shake, her hand cold, skin pale against her long red nails.

“Charmed. You were at your Dad’s office, weren’t you?” She slid into the booth after Dad, Justin between Dad and myself.

I nodded. “Do you know if they have any pizza? I didn’t see any on the menu but I figured it’s Italian, I’m in New York…”

“Gus-“ Dad started but she laughed again, and I noticed she seemed a lot more human away from the office.

“I’m sure we can get something arranged,” she said with a wink as she waived at the waiter. “I know the owner.”

It wasn’t long after we ordered that Ms. McCarthy began asking Justin about his art. “I’d like to think it’s part of what brought Brian and I together,” Justin was saying, lacing his fingers through with Dad’s. “Brian has always appreciated art and when he realized I liked to create it, he knew he couldn’t get rid of me.” Justin brought Dad’s hand to his lips to kiss and they shared a smile. I knew they were playing things up, really quite hammy, but Ms. McCarthy was falling for it hook, line and sinker judging by her infatuated smile and hand to her chest.

“What can I say? I know something beautiful when I see it,” Dad said softly while looking pretty deep into Justin’s eyes. Justin’s cheeks flushed as he chuckled. Yeah. Laying it on thick.

“And this is the reason I wanted to meet with you both. This is the direction we’re looking at taking our new campaign. Our current team seems to be producing exactly what we’re asking for but that and that alone. We want something more creative, more abstract without being pretentious but not condescending our audience while evoking that sense of family.”

Justin glanced over at Brian before speaking. “Ms. McCarthy-“

“Please, call me Phoebe, Mr. Taylor.”

“Then you can call me Justin,” Justin said with one of those huge smiles that were quite infectious. “Phoebe, I think there’s some misunderstanding. I don’t do work for Brian and his art department. I’ve worked hard to get to this point my career and Brian has always made it clear he’ll make room should I decide to go that route. However I also know that he works directly with his hiring team despite his title to only bring on the best of the best. I’ve never expected him to forgo his standards for me-“

Dad snorted. “He’s being too humble. He knows he goes well and above my standards in every way, shape and form.” Dad moved his hand below the table and whatever he did it made Justin smile at him in a way that I only knew was a warning because I had seen it numerous times.

“I’m not being humble I’m being realistic. My background isn’t in multimedia content development or any type of project management, and I never even finished my degree. Brian’s art director that he hired for his New York branch is incredibly versatile and experienced. She spearheaded that viral campaign for Versace-“

“If I may interrupt, gentlemen. This isn’t a meeting to win me over. I already want to work with you.” She laughed - an earthy, rough rumble of a laugh - at their wide eyes. “I’m already aware of the accomplishments Kinnetik has and of the team you have gathered for your offices here. Otherwise I would have never agreed to the meeting in the first place. Especially when it was pushed back initially.”

“Ms. McCarthy-“ Dad began, before clearing his throat when she quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Phoebe. Shall we order some champagne to toast this new partnership?”

“There’s one more thing we need to discuss first. I understand Justin is your partner in your personal life only but I meant it when I said his art is exactly what I’m looking for. If we proceed I want you to have him as a primary consultant. Dependent on the financial returns of Q3 after the campaigns run we’ll evaluate the contract after, but I want to work with Justin whether it’s under Kinnetik or not. I’m simply offering you the deal first as a courtesy.”

If there’s one thing I knew about my Dad, it’s that he had his pride and his ego. I was a little concerned that from the sound of it, _Phoebe_ had more of an interest in working with Justin over him. But he simply smiled back at her and held his hand up as the waiter breezed by.

“A bottle of Dom Perignon, please. Three glasses.”

  
~*~

There was four bedrooms in the apartment, though calling it that seemed to be an understatement. Dad had draped plastic all over the ground of one room for Justin to paint in when he didn’t feel like making the trek across the city to make it all the way to his studio. And of course I had the guest room that had a bed larger than my bed in Toronto and I always ended up sideways in it. I guess I moved a lot in my sleep.

We got back home from the dinner and Justin had a couple glasses more of the champagne than Dad which meant he was teetering on tipsy. Phoebe was I think a little in love with Justin and they talked about everything from art history to politics and Justin even told her a little bit about his ex-boyfriend who Phoebe knew of but didn’t know directly. I was a little afraid he might slip up if she asked the timeline of when they dated but she never did.

She had poured Justin glass after glass and while she probably forgot Dad was there after a while Justin had kept a hand on his thigh throughout the whole meal which helped comfort him, I think. He listened as I told him about some YouTubers I liked though I could tell by his tone the whole idea of internet celebrity was confusing to him.

When I explained how wealthy some of them were due the video monetization, however, I could tell that must have struck an idea in his head because he was quickly typing some things into his Notes feature on his iPhone.

Anyway, the thing I learned is that while I knew Dad and Justin were already touchy-feely because they were still new to being back together, the alcohol definitely made Justin even less aware of things like personal space.

But it was less like they were going to go at it on the floor and leave me scarred for life and more like Justin wanted to wear Dad like a sweater and never take it off.

Dad had just put his keys in the marble key-bowl when Justin helped remove Dad’s jacket before his own, kissing his chin and leading him into the living area by hand.

“Gus, you want to make some popcorn and we can watch a movie?” Justin asked and I knew that was a sign he wanted some alone time. I nodded, making my way to grab some of that black kernel organic stuff Justin had tucked in our grocery cart when Dad wasn’t looking.

By the time I had seasoned the popcorn and walked back to the living room I closed one eye, clinging tight to the wooden bowl in nervous anticipation of what I was going to walk into.

But I had no reason to be scared.

Justin had his head in Dad’s lap, one hand clasped with Dad’s on his stomach and the other draping down the couch. Dad was softly combing through his hair, just watching him as he slept. He turned to me and put his finger to his lips, and I tiptoed quietly to sit at the end of the couch near Justin’s feet.

They both looked incredibly peaceful and Dad looked so damn infatuated and deep in thought that I couldn’t hold it in. “Dad,” I whispered, and he turned to me though his hand still traced the lines of Justin’s face. “Are you really okay if Justin doesn’t want to tell people you’re together?”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to. It’s that he knows what people will ask and he doesn’t,” he paused, as if mentally striking the last note with a red pen. “ _We don’t_ know the answers.”

“And what will people ask?” This was something I liked about talking to Dad. He didn’t hold back when I asked questions. I was an annoying, hormonal teenager to the other adults in my life but Dad didn’t want to shield me from a world that he knew I was already stepping into. He wanted me to face it - head on.

“If I’m still going to fuck around, if he’s going to be okay giving up his youth and success to be with me.” There was something in his tone that threw me back a bit.

It almost sounded like… defeat? “Are you? Is he?”

Justin sighed a little in his slumber, eyelids twitching and he turned a bit in Dad’s lap. “He offered to watch you tonight so I could hit the clubs,” he said as an answer, and I realized for all the teasing the family did when Dad was around about being rude, slutty or amoral that I didn’t really get to see it. I found there was that separation that wallowed in my life of my Dad’s identity in the stories told and my actual observations. 

“I can watch myself, if you want to go,” I said and I meant it. I did love having time with my Dad but the distance typically meant at least a week at a time since day trips weren’t really feasible. And there was this nagging guilt that he had to rearrange his daily life around my presence. He would complain on and off but it never sounded all that serious. He’d lament about the hot dude at an ice-cream shop or walking his dog at the park and why did he let Mom con him into pawning me off onto him but then he’d laugh at my stories from school or show me pictures from the Valentino Spring 2015 Menswear Collection.

“Sorry, Sonny-Boy. You’re stuck with me for the night,” he said with a small smile and at that moment Justin stirred and stretched an arm and winced when it hit the arm of the sofa. “Rise and shine,” he said softly, taking Justin’s hand and rubbing small circles into his palm. The way Justin’s eyes fluttered open and crinkled up at Dad made me kind of jealous I didn’t have that kind of love.

I also didn’t really get any answers from Dad, but I guess it wasn’t exactly my business.

“Champagne makes me sleepy,” Justin said as he swung his legs down. “Oh, Gus, I’m sorry, I forgot the about the popcorn,” he said when he spotted the still full bowl nestled on the counter. “How long was I out?”

“Not long,” I said, “but Dad wouldn’t let me Sharpie a mustache onto your face.”

“I’m lucky he’s around,” Justin laughed amicably with a squeeze to Dad’s knee. “Brian, you should go out and celebrate. Gus and I are okay here. You just scored an account large enough to earn your last years bonus three times over. Go! Have some cute guys congratulate you.”

“I think I’m okay with this cute guy congratulating me,” Dad replied, wrapping an arm around Justin’s shoulder while tugging him closer. “And you’re the one who scored the account. Not me.”

But Justin rolled his eyes good-naturedly, standing up while holding a hand out to Brian. “I mean it. Go have fun. We’ll have our own celebration later,” he emphasized later, eyes dancing from Dad’s to the direction of their bedroom as if I didn’t already know their six-hundred euphemisms for Not Obvious but Obvious Banging While (Gus) Was Here.

Mom and Ma went through periods of fighting a lot and periods where they were always cuddling and kissing and periods where it was like they were roommates who happened to have kids together. I knew all the ups and downs and knew at the end of the day they loved one another and that that superseded all else.

And at this point, I saw a little mix of that with Dad and Justin. But mostly at that point it had been that kissing and cuddling stage, though Dad didn’t really call it that. (I don’t know what else you called the hair playing and canoodling and constant touching but _okaaaay, Dad_.)

I also learned a lot, I would realize later in life with my own relationships, from all the adults in my life including Dad and Justin.

Some great things, some things I knew I wouldn’t ever want to repeat. Sometimes a combination of it all.

And maybe tonight was one of them.

~*~

Eventually, Justin had persuaded Dad to go out.

I realized the trolley Dad had kept his liquor on had been growing lighter but I had only been here for a few days and there was no way Dad and Justin had gone through that amount of booze. I was with them pretty much all the time and the math didn’t add up.

But Dad had a glass of his usual amber liquid and Justin was sketching something on the chaise when Dad announced he was on his way out.

  
“Have fun,” I waved, making a funny face as I tried to hide my third yawn of the night.

“Don’t wait up,” he said as he leaned down to kiss Justin goodbye, who wrapped his hand around the back of Dad’s head to hold him in place and ignored my sick noises as he deepened the kiss.

“Mmm, bye. We’ll be here. Love you,” Justin said, and Dad never really said it back, but Justin never seemed too upset about it. In fact the only times I remember Dad saying it to _me_ was that time I was in the hospital because Tom from primary school pushed me out a tree and I hurt my back pretty badly and when I was 12 and called him and told him I wanted to die because Mom and Ma got in this bad fight and Ma ended up staying in a hotel for the whole weekend.

He talked about it, sure. ‘ _You know I’ll always love you, Sonny-Boy_ ,’ or, ‘ _Don’t be a twat, Gus, you have two mommies and a Dad who love you so stop being a drama princess and you’ll get your phone back on Tuesday_.’ (Don’t ask. Being a teenager sucks, okay?)

I waited before I heard Dad close the door. Now it was time to interrogate Justin.

“Does it bother you that he doesn’t say ‘I love you,’ back?” I asked, and Justin paused where he had been sketching, resting his hand on the hand warmer Dad had pulled out for him earlier. I guess it helped with his hand cramps, or something.

Justin tapped the charcoal pencil on his sketchpad before answering. “It’s nice to hear, when he does,” he said after a moment. “But for some people saying it holds a lot more weight. You saw Phoebe, she was already telling me she loved me by the end of our dinner.”

“Phoebe was also drunk,” I pointed out, and Justin laughed lightly.

“True. But your Dad doesn’t have to say it for me to see it, to feel it and experience it. He shows it to me in his actions. He says it, maybe not as much as I do or other couples but when it’s just me and him and he knows he’s in a safe place, he’ll say it. It’s not as hard as it used to be for him but I don’t think he’ll ever not have to think about it.”

“Because of his parents?” I knew a little bit about my paternal grandparents, enough for me to know I was better off not knowing them. 

“I’m sure that’s part of it.” Justin turned the sketchpad to me, showing dark lines and grey shading that looked like the profile of an older woman with hair that stretched into branches and tree-sap for wrinkle lines. “What do you think?”

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” The woman in the portrait had her eyes closed, the deteriorating weeds and vines that stretched across her slumped shoulder winding around like a broken necklace.

Justin turned it back to face himself, licking his thumb before rubbing at a corner. “Maybe. But maybe that’s what you see because you’re still so young,” he said, but not in that condescending way I was used to when adults talked about my age.

“How many rings do you think she has,” I asked, and when he looked at me questioningly I clarified, “I mean, you know, they say the number of rings on a tree-stump…”

“You’d have to cut her down to know, then, wouldn’t you?” He smiled at me as he continued to sketch. “I’d like to think it’s our experiences, not just our age, that help define us.”

~*~

It was past 3am when he got home.

I had fallen asleep hours ago, just a little after Justin had shown me some shading techniques with the charcoal and brought me to his makeshift studio room to watch as I used some of his tools to attempt painting one of my photographs. We laughed when every time I tried mixing colors it turned this ugly shade of yellow-brown and when I tried mimicking his exact paint-strokes it just came off jagged and blobby in my hands. He had put some music on that was a weird mix of indie-pop and club hits, retro and some Rihanna. I tried staying up because I liked spending time with him but when I found myself nodding off his stool he gently coaxed me into my room and promised he’d wake me in the morning to help make more smoothies for breakfast.

I heard Dad and Justin’s voices and crawled out my window to sit on the balcony, hugging my blanket around my shoulders as I sat on the deck chair.

“Did you have fun?” Justin led Dad to the sofa by his hand, sitting them down. There was another entrance to the balcony from the sitting area and I waved but neither saw me under my igloo of a blanket and the dark sky. We had been leaving the sliding door cracked open as it was an unusually warm summer, so it wasn’t hard to hear them.

“Found a club ten minutes away that turns away anyone with more than ten percent body fat,” Dad said, and Justin rolled his eyes as he peppered kisses down his neck.

“Sounds pretty bitchy,” Justin noted, unbuttoning Dad’s shirt. “Do they measure at the door?”

“I wouldn’t know, I got in through the back door.”

“Sounds like the security sucked,” Justin said a little more quietly, holding onto Dad’s shoulders before laying on his back on the couch, pulling Dad on top of him.

Dad ran a hand up Justin’s leg, helping to push closer as Justin crossed his ankles over his back and wrapped his arms loosely around his shoulders. “They sucked pretty well,” he said before leaning down to kiss Justin slowly.

“Mm, Bri, you taste like bourbon,” Justin complained, turning his head away but Dad just kissed him again, and again and again.

“I fucked a guy with a neck tattoo,” Dad said, and okay, if I crawled back in my room now they’d definitely hear so I just buried myself deeper in my blanket and hoped they weren’t going to go at it right there on the couch. “He asked if I had Snap, whatever the fuck that is.”

Justin laughed, but it turned into a sigh when Dad moved his hand under Justin’s grey henley. “Brian, let’s go to the room,” he said, and yes yes, I was in total agreement, go to the room!

“Don’t you want to hear the guy who asked me to fuck him while he wore his thong?”

Justin sat up a little straighter at that, eyes narrowing. “The security guy or the neck tattoo man?”

“Neither. Some tourist from Brazil. Said he’d teach me some Portuguese.”

“Just how many men _did_ you fuck tonight, Brian?” Oh, no.

Dad still hand one hand under Justin’s shirt, one hand next to his head as he balanced himself over Justin. “I thought that’s what you wanted? To go out, celebrate, let cute guys congratulate me?”

“And then come home and have me as your dessert after your six-course meal?” Justin dropped his legs, pushing at Dad’s chest as he pushed himself up. “What’s going on with you? You haven’t had more than one trick in a night since you moved up here.”

“I thought you wanted me to be myself,” Dad snapped, shirt still hanging off his shoulders. “Or has your taste of boring, demure, habitual stagnancy cured you of my wicked ways?” Dad kissed somewhere between Justin’s eyes, a weird reflection of a sign of affection Adam often did to Justin when they were together. “Is that it? Want me to fuck you missionary, baby?” His words, while definitely slurred, had done enough.

Justin leapt to his feet, voice breathy. “Cut it out. Why are you being an asshole?”

“Because I’m an asshole, Sunshine. It’s who I am. You want me to be me, here it is, in all its drunken, high, promiscuous and selfish glory.” He threw his hands up and leaned back in his seat, throwing his long legs up on the coffee table while avoiding Justin’s glare.

“We’re not doing this, Brian. We moved past you being purposely vindictive to push me away a decade ago. You’re not who you were back then and even then you weren’t who you wanted the world to see.” Justin breathed in slowly and knelt down, taking one of Dad’s hands in both of his. “Is this about the account? Are you pissed because you feel you failed somehow?”

“I don’t know how to be the person that makes you happy,” Dad said after a moment, finally meeting Justin’s gaze. “I know it scares the hell out of me that seeing you charm your way into getting this account brought me more satisfaction than any of the men I was with tonight. Your half asleep hand-job this morning was a more intense orgasm than the blow-job with the tongue ring from Security Man.”

“So romantic,” Justin said sarcastically, but he was pushing between Dad’s legs, cupping his face in his hands. “You already make me happy, Brian. You make me happy when you complain about your HR department and when you come in from the gym sweaty and gross because the gym showers are closed so you have to shower here and you make me happy when you clear your schedule with Cynthia because you know Gus is coming. You make me happy when you have a weird sex story about some guy you met at a business lunch and don’t question why I won’t go in the backroom anymore.”

Dad leaned his forehead against Justin’s. “I’m sorry. I really am an asshole.”

  
“You can be,” Justin agreed with a smile. “But that’s not new.”

“I didn’t fuck the Brazilian,” Dad said and Justin leaned back, but didn’t pull his hand from Dad’s cheek. “He wanted me to. But I wanted to come back here.“

“I’m not asking you to stop tricking,” Justin said carefully, but assertively. “But I also shouldn’t have assumed that that’s what you wanted to do tonight. I know tonight was a big night for you. For us. I’m sorry that I pushed you.”

“I never want you to be just another fuck,” Dad said, words still flurrying together like cursive. “If I go out and just fuck some guy, it’s because I don’t want to use you.”

Justin smiled, resting his hands on Dad’s thighs. “What if I want to be, for a night? It’s been a while since we role-played. We could relive your youth.” Dad pinched Justin’s side for that and Justin chuckled, moving somehow closer. “Brian, I can’t always be that person you take things out on because you get into your head and want to push me away. I think - “ he paused, kissing Dad again, but it was like he was taking a breath before jumping from a cliff. “I think you should talk to someone.”

“If you’re suggesting that I see a shrink-“

“There’s no shame in it,” Justin interrupted, voice gentle. “Men are over 3 times as likely to die by suicide and gay men twice that. I’ve been seeing someone for a while now. They helped me realize how codependent I could be, how I relied on validation of myself through partners and didn’t focus on myself.”

“I don’t need to pay someone to tell me I’m messed up because my parents didn’t love me and I have more memories of my Dad drunk and violent than sober and decent.” Justin didn’t move or respond so Dad continued. “I’m glad it’s working for you, Sunshine, but I’ll be okay somehow.”

Justin sighed, standing back up and running his fingers through Dad’s hair. “Could you just come to sit in with me sometime? You don’t have to say anything and I won’t make it about you. But it would be nice to have you there. And I know my therapist would be excited to see the guy I’m hopelessly in love with.”

“If I agree to go can we please end this conversation so I can take a shower and then you can sit on my face?”

“Fine. But I’ll expect you next Thursday at 4pm,” Justin said, though the latter half of the statement was muffled by Dad standing up and kissing him hard, both hands sliding under Justin’s already loose pants to grab his ass and pull him in. They were too old to be this handsy.

Thankfully this make-out session didn’t last long and they soon scrambled towards their bedroom which allowed me to sneak back in my window, sliding between the sheets as my blanket was still cold from the outside.

~*~

What I realized is that Dad and Justin were pretty well balanced in their relationship.

  
Sure, Dad made more of a flourish of his wealth: He always had nice clothes, nice furniture, made sure I had the full barber experience where an older Italian man put some nice-smelling stuff in my hair and a warm rag on my face.

  
But I realized Justin wasn’t exactly a starving artist, either. Justin had paid for our dinners a few times, always giving Dad this look if he objected and leaving a decent amount more than the recommended donation amount when he took me into the various museums around town.

And it was more than the money.

Dad was a bit more overt when he was being dramatic; he huffed and puffed, threw his long body down with a flourish, was somehow more sarcastic than usual and asked me to Google the nicest graveyards in the city for when he was sure to die from anger when the marketing director missed a deadline. ‘ _How does the marketing director of an_ ** _advertising agency_** _forget that we need to have our image spread? Am I on the Truman show?_ ’

  
And Justin would be there, handing him his coffee before he asked or rubbing his shoulders from behind or texting Bobbie the marketing director to push back the quarterly gala and prioritize a meeting with some PR firm ASAP.

But Justin had his moments, too, though they were a bit more subtle.

There was that moment when Justin received a call from his agent and it must’ve been bad news because he told Dad we didn’t need to go to the gallery like we had planned and he sounded a little too vibrant when he assured us it was fine and that it gave him more time to complete his other projects.

Dad didn’t press the issue, but he wrapped his arms around Justin from behind, resting his chin on Justin’s shoulders. “You know, I don’t know if Gus has seen Yellow Submarine yet,” he said and Justin smiled, looking at me expectantly.

I shrugged. Didn’t sound familiar. “I think I sang the song in school choir once,” I said, and Justin was already pulling away from Dad as he made his way to the entertainment center.

“Pay attention to it,” Dad told me as Justin plugged in the dusty VHS player we never used. “Don’t be on your phone the whole time.”

And okay, I was only on my phone for like, a quarter of it. But it didn’t matter, Justin had his Wacom drawing tablet on his lap, pen looping about as Dad watched, every now and then his fingers gentle on Justin’s wrist as if he wanted to feel what it was like to be an artist in that moment.

Somewhere halfway into the movie Justin dropped the pen, leaning into Dad’s arm.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Dad asked, eyes watching the grainy lines of the shitty video quality.

“They gallery owners have a pretty strong relationship with an artist based out of Salt Lake and supposedly found out this artist had just relocated to New York and thought his work better represented the theme they were going for.” Justin powered off the tablet, placing it on the table. “But they said they’d keep me in mind for future exhibitions, will compensate me for the loss of revenue and appreciate my time and talent.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dad scoffed. “They’ve already spent money on advertising that you would be a part of this and money on your commission. Why would they pull out when there’s no way this person from Salt Lake can sell enough to cover their financial loss?”

Justin laughed coldly. “One guess who curated this event. Someone who has the connections and money to cover any loss to the owners…”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Since when was he a vindictive fucker? I thought you two were okay.” Dad was typing something on his phone pretty furiously.

Justin sighed. “I may have told him that we’re back together,” he confessed, and while I was pretty surprised to hear that, I could tell Dad was even more so.

“I thought you weren’t ready,” he said, and Justin smiled and kissed his shoulder.

“He texted asking to meet up for lunch and I felt I owed it to him. He’s hurt, Brian. We spent almost 5 years together. It wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t all bad, either. You don’t have a long-term relationship and not develop some kind of love.”

“And if you really loved someone you wouldn’t sabotage their livelihood because you’re pissed they’ve moved on.” Dad’s phone rang and he held out his finger as if to say _one moment_. “Kinney speaking. Oh, hi, Dianne. No, it’s - can you tell her it’s about Justin?”

“Brian, who are you talking to?” Justin stood up, leaning close as if to try and hear the conversation. But Dad kept his finger up.

“Phoebe, hi. You remember the gallery we talked about that Justin was showing at? Yeah, that one.” He paused, letting her speak. “Turns out they had a change of heart and are cancelling his portion of the exhibition.”

“You told Phoebe about my show?” Justin didn’t sound, just kind of surprised. “Brian…”

“I know. I know.” Dad laughed at something she said, looking at Justin with a satisfied smirk. “Well he nearly had everything finished so I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you what he has if you want to schedule a meeting to see what will work for you.” He put his phone to his shoulder, “you free tomorrow around 2?”

Justin nodded, face still contorted in confusion.

“He’s in. Do you want to wait to tell him?” He nodded, which I found funny because it wasn’t like she could see it over the phone. “Okay. Yeah, I think he’ll be happy to hear it. Thanks, Phoebe. Have a good night. Mmhm. Okay. You too.”

“Brian, what…?”

“Phoebe’s obsessed with you, Sunshine. I’d be worried if she didn’t have a pussy.” Justin scoffed and Dad continued. “I told her about your show, figured she’d like to see you in action. She’s having this big fundraiser for impoverished kids next month and she was going to ask if you wanted to participate. Think senators, socialites, musicians, actors, fashion designers… All those people who pay people to tell them they’re important just because they’re on US Weekly…”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d say as testicular cancer but that’s still a little sore of a subject for me…” Dad didn’t have to say much else because there was a flurry of blond and laughter and Justin had nearly knocked Dad down with the force of his hug.

And okay, I had to get in on this, too. “Congratulations,” I said to Justin as I hugged him, noticing not for the first time how I was nearly as tall as him now.

“Thanks, Gus” he said, still beaming over my shoulder at Dad. “And thank you, Brian-“

Dad shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. If it wasn’t for your talent and ability to charm anyone with a pulse this wouldn’t be happening. And I would’ve lost the account.”

“You would have won her over. You didn’t win Pittsburgh’s Ad Man of the Year 6-years in a row for nothing.” Justin wrapped his arms around Dad’s shoulders, coaxing one of those rare toothy-smiles from him.

“Maybe. And it was 7,” Dad corrected, and Justin whispered something like _right_ are _ohh_ before they kissed. “Anyway, I figured out how you can repay me.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have to thank you?”

“Not for that,” Dad said as he pulled Justin closer by his waist. “For letting you stay with me these past couple months.” His smile was a mix between mischievous and proud.

Justin’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh? Is that what this is?”

“If you bring me as your date, not only will I get to see some of New York’s wealthiest and most elite drool over you and your art all night, but I’ll be able to gather enough business cards and contacts to open up Kinnetik London by Christmas.”

“Wouldn’t be me to hold back Brian Kinney and his ever expanding ambition and success,” Justin agreed with another sweet (okay, okay, they weren’t _always_ gross) kiss before pulling away. “So? What are we feeling for dinner?”

~*~

It was a few hours later and Justin was organizing his newest pieces in the art room, talking to Phoebe on the phone about her ideas and his despite it being late as we learned this woman just did. Not. Sleep.

Somehow I was stuck doing dishes, but I guess it wasn’t too bad because they had this fancy dishwasher so my primary duty was scraping leftover rice and broccoli into the compost bin and shoving the plates into the stainless steel gadget.

Dad walked into the kitchen, eyebrows furrowed as he received his at least 12th text (and two or three missed calls) from the last hour. His confusion was kind of funny, because I’m a regular teen and lie about my age to use social media and definitely follow Justin on all platforms. But Dad was kind of old-school and really only used Linkedin and Grindr, which I wish I didn’t know.

“Gus,” he began, and I knew exactly where this was going, “what the fuck is ‘Instagram official’ and why won’t people shut up about it?”

So overall, it was a pretty good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to write here except thank you for those of you who have read and wrote and been so kind! I miss writing but there's only so often I can have Gus listen in undetected, haha. I plan on writing more so while this will be wrapped up soon don't hesitate to let me know if you'd like to see anything more from this story we didn't see because Gus wasn't there or just any ideas, period.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember this is all from the POV of Gus so we're not always getting the full story. So some things aren't as they seem.


End file.
